


Part 1: Contruum

by ReneeoftheStars



Series: Stayin' Alive in a Galaxy Far Far Away [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, star wars roleplaying game, star wars sequel trilogy era
Genre: Bounty Hunters, Cerean (Star Wars), D&D, D&D Adventures, Dungeons and Dragons, Fantasy Flight Star Wars RPG, Mercenaries, Miraluka (Star Wars), Politics, Post-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Rattataki (Star Wars), Roleplaying Game: Star Wars: Age of Rebellion, Roleplaying Game: Star Wars: Edge of Empire, Roleplaying Game: Star Wars: Force and Destiny, Ryn (Star Wars), Star Wars D&D, The First Order, The First Order Sucks, Togruta (Star Wars), Wookiee (Star Wars), Zygerrian(s), contruum (Star Wars), diplomat, dnd, dungeons and dragons but in a galaxy far far away, let the shenanigans begin!, star wars sequel era, world: contruum
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2020-03-26 14:51:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19008025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReneeoftheStars/pseuds/ReneeoftheStars
Summary: It has been thirty years since the fall of the Empire. For a time, the galaxy recovered, and people felt as though the dark times were behind them.But the First Order is on the rise, occupying worlds and spreading fear as it works to solidify its dominance. Its chief agents - the Knights of Ren - span the galaxy, searching for ancient Dark Side artifacts that hold the answer to destroying the Resistance and the Republic once and for all...Meanwhile: what happens when you bring together a strait-laced diplomat, a Mandalorian-in-training bounty hunter, a child mechanic, a drunk smuggler, and a handful of ambiguously aligned Force-Users? Shenanigans. Traveling the galaxy together as they take odd jobs, danger always seems to find them - with the First Order never far behind.These events are recounted by Zaatha Naar of Kiros.





	1. First Day On-World, and I Get a Job Offer

**Author's Note:**

> I started playing this Star Wars roleplaying game with six friends in the fall of 2017, and we've been playing ever since. 
> 
> Over time, players have come and gone, characters have been abandoned in favor of new ones. Triumphs, despairs, spur-of-the-moment decisions, and lots of yelling have filled my Wednesday evenings with entertainment that I always look forward to. My personal notes became more and more detailed as I realized I wanted to novelize our adventures. 
> 
> It's taken quite a while to get started on this project, but now I really want to share this collaborative story we've been working on.  
> Updates probably won't be regular, but I'll be continuing to write as I decipher my notes and remember events.  
> Hope you enjoy!

“Welcome to Alalys, capital city of Contruum,” the Corellian pilot called as the transport touched down on the landing pad. Steam hissed from the vents and the entire ship rattled on impact. A groaning noise issued from the rear hatch as it lurched open, and another passenger scrambled for the ramp, as though worried it was going to slam shut again.

Gritting my teeth, I managed to unclench my hands from the armrests. I rose from the seat, slinging my bag over my shoulder. “Thank you for the passage,” I said, holding out a few extra credits to the pilot.

He accepted them with barely a nod, waving absently. “Thanks for choosing Corsin Interplanetary Travel.” He sounded bored.

I cringed as the rough metal of the low hatch grazed against my montrals. I ducked and hurried out of the confined space, breathing a sigh of relief as my boots hit solid ground.

The grey and black sprawling city blocked the horizon everywhere I turned. Used to large settlements, the towering structures didn’t bother me as much as I thought it would. But the sheer height of the buildings – reaching high into the sky, some of them disappearing in the low-hanging clouds – did make me feel a bit trapped. I shrugged the feeling off and, hoping I looked more confident than I felt, struck out down the street.

From what little research I’d been able to scrape together about this world, I knew to expect Humans to be the primary species of Contruum. There were plenty of non-humans milling about, but it didn’t take long for me to realize that I was attracting a few glances. I hitched the bag higher onto my shoulder. _Stop being so sensitive_ , I chided myself. _Maybe they’ve just never seen a Togruta before._ There were plenty of other blue-skinned creatures in the galaxy, so I doubted my coloring was the source of the stares. All I could figure was that it was my orange-marked montrals and lekku that made me alien to them.

Then again, the homeworld of Togruta was in the same neighborhood of the galaxy as Contruum, so I would have assumed they’d be familiar with my people. The two worlds were only separated by a relatively quick trip down the Hydian Way and the Vaathkree Trade Corridor.

I felt a twinge of homesickness as I thought of how close I was to Shili, and to its colony world, Kiros. It had been years since I’d last been home, and though I’d semi-regularly contacted my family, it wasn’t the same. I wondered how tall my little brother had grown, if my mother was still satisfied with her position as mayor, if my father had gone on any successful hunts lately. The galaxy was wider than I had realized when I first left the Shili system, and I’d gotten caught up in its hustle and bustle.

Depending on how this trip went, maybe I’d take a break from my travels and stay with my family for a while. Or maybe it was time to return home for good. I could run for reelection to the General Council, pick up where I left off as a Representative.

I shook myself out of my thoughts as I left the spaceport. That was a decision I could make later.

After exploring the city for the better part of the afternoon, I paused in front of a restaurant to collect my thoughts. It seemed I had finally made it to the heart of the city. The road widened into the main thoroughfare, and was bustling with speeder and foot traffic. According to the map I’d downloaded from the local HoloNet, the capital building ought to be somewhere in the vicinity. Because I didn’t know exactly what it looked like, I was counting on the fact that it was as big and obvious as the government office on Kiros.

Drawing a deep breath, I focused on a particularly large building with an ornate front down the way. It looked promising, so I started towards it.

I’d only gone a few feet when someone called, “Excuse me? Sentient?”

Feeling like someone was coming up behind me, I turned to find myself face-to-face with a Gand. His large insectoid eyes stared straight ahead, a heavily modded blaster at his hip. 

The voice was warped by the ammonia respirator. “Are you Zaatha Naar, of Kiros?”

I tensed, eyes darting around warily. I had told only a few people I was coming here. “Who is asking?”

“I represent a business of repute. Ms. Hedinger – of Hedinger Corporations – would like to extend an invitation to you to meet with herself and some other interested parties. She wishes to discuss the possibility of doing business with you.”

I hesitated. The name sounded familiar, and thinking back, I recalled a HoloNet article from a week ago that had highlighted the company’s profit margins. They were certainly a lucrative business. And if a shipping and trading company was seeking me out – _perhaps they would be willing to open trade with Kiros._

But it couldn’t be that simple, could it? This was one of the reasons I’d left home: to help my world establish independent trade. And now this opportunity just fell into my lap?

_If it’s a possibility, it’s worth hearing out this Hedinger figure._

The Gand was waiting.

“I’d be happy to meet with Ms. Hedinger,” I said.

"Are you available to see her now? Or do you require more time to acquaint yourself with the area?"

 _No time like the present._ "I can adjust my schedule to accommodate a meeting now."

“Then, if you’d follow me.” Without waiting for a reply, he turned and strode down a side street.

I kept a few paces behind him as he wove through the pedestrian walks, doing my best to memorize the route. Soon enough, he came to a halt before a nondescript, windowless building. An armored humanoid stood beside the entry, and offered a curt nod to the Gand. In response, the Gand spun on his heel to face me.

My hand itched towards my holdout blaster in the hidden pouch on the inside of my wide belt, but I halted the movement. These beings were all visibly armed, but they hadn’t acted with hostility. _Yet_.

“You can go in. Straight through to the back room. Ms. Hedinger will be in shortly.”

“Thank you,” I responded, hoping unease didn’t color my voice.

Beyond the doorway was a small room filled with benches and tables. A few beings glanced up disinterestedly as I passed them, then went back to their game of sabacc. Trying to tread lightly, I approached the door on the far side of the room. It slid open to reveal three beings seated around a table. An armed and armored Rodian stood just to the side of the door, and he jerked his head to indicate that I should step inside. Still apprehensive, I obliged.

At the table, a bulky humanoid with chalk-white skin turned his head toward me. Judging by the purple tattoos streaking from forehead to the back of his bald skull and arching from cheekbones to jaw, I guessed he was a Rattataki. “So. They offered you some sort of business deal too?”

He was clad in armor from neck to boots, seemingly of Mandalorian design. Weapons and gadgets hung off of him in a way that would have been overkill if he seemed incompetent – which he certainly didn’t. The way he lounged in his chair, the upkeep of his many weapons… everything about him screamed _bounty hunter_.

I eyed him warily. After all, bounty hunters had a reputation of not always being on the right side of the law. So whatever this job offer was, it would either be illegal, or mercenary work.

Suddenly I was less keen to be here.

“Yes,” I responded, doing my best to cover up my skepticism. I strode forward and held out my hand. “Zaatha Naar, of Kiros.”

Uncrossing his arm, he clasped my hand. “Chagrav Bahu.”

“And I’m Zoya!”

I started in surprise as I noticed the person – the _child_ – sitting in a chair beside the bounty hunter. She grinned up at me, dusty-red fur framing her face and coating her exposed arms. She was small, even for a Ryn; she couldn’t have been more than twelve years old. Her long prehensile tail flicked back and forth behind her, her legs swinging a good foot above the ground. A toolbelt that seemed too big for her was secured around her waist, its pouches brimming with devices.

Her smile was infectious, and I grinned back. “Pleasure to meet you, Zoya. And…are you here about a job too?”

“Sure am. I came with him.” She jabbed a finger towards Chagrav.

“We travel together,” he explained. “Zoya here stowed away on my ship a couple years ago. I was in half a mind to toss her out when I found her, but she’s proved to be the best mechanic around, and a great technician to boot. So, in exchange for keeping my ship in good form, she travels with me.”

“It’s fun,” Zoya added brightly. “Sometimes I get to help him catch his targets.”

The whole arrangement seemed odd to me, but in a galaxy like this, most beings would take whatever friends they could find. “What brings you to Contruum?”

“I’m actually tracking some bounties. Two escaped thieves.” He blew out a puff of air. “This’ll be – what is it Zoya, their third time escaping after I’ve caught them?”

“Fourth, I think.” Her tail curled in circles. “I guess they’re really good at breaking out.”

Chagrav nodded. “Last I heard, they were seen in this sector of space. Contruum was as good a place as any to start.” He scowled. “And then my ship got impounded. I’m short on credits, so whatever this job is will work for me. What about you?”

“I’m acting as an unofficial diplomat.” I raised my head a bit as I spoke. Though I was a bit shorter than him, my montrals curved up above his head, making me seem even taller than I was. “The New Republic considers Kiros a colony world of Shili,, even though we’ve been established since the Clone Wars. I’m helping to set up trade and relations independently from Shili so we don’t have to rely on them for all our resources. Contruum was just next on my list of worlds to visit. I was actually just on my way to the governor’s office when – ah, Ms. Hedinger’s offer was extended.”

Chagrav’s face puckered. “A politician then, eh?”

“Yes. I was an elected Representative for a term before I left home.”

“Don’t have much patience for politicians. I don’t care for the backstabbing and underhanded deals. They’re incapable of being direct and sincere. A thug with a blaster is more honest than some of these politicos.”

Even though I knew he wasn’t directly talking about me, I couldn’t help but feel insulted. “Not all politicians are like that.”

He shrugged his armored shoulders. “Enough of them are.”

Somewhat off-put, I turned to the third person at the table.

The humanoid sitting there hadn’t stood as the other two introduced themselves, and he made no move to do so now. A blindfold was wrapped around his eyes. Judging by his steepled fingers and serene expression, I guessed he was used to not being able to see. I glanced around for an echolocator device, a visual-to-audio sensor, even a guide anooba – anything to indicate how he navigated the galaxy.

“Miraluka,” Chagrav muttered to me.

 _Oh._ I flushed in embarrassment. The Miraluka were an eyeless humanoid race, relying on their other senses to inform them of their surroundings. I should have considered it earlier.

“You were recruited as well?” I asked, trying to mask my mistake.

A beat of silence. “Yes.”

I waited for him to introduce himself, but he stayed silent. “And what is your name?”

“I have no name.”

“I see.” Another beat as I realized what I’d said. I cringed. Behind me, Zoya giggled. “Then what would you like to be called?”

“It matters little to me.” He pondered for a moment. “I suppose if you need something to address me by, ‘Wild Card’ would suffice.”

“And how did you end up here?”

“It simply seemed like the place to be.”

I raised my brow at Chagrav. The bounty hunter rolled his eyes in response.

At a loss for what to say, I said, “Well, it’s good to meet you, Wild Card.”

He inclined his head, then lapsed into silence.

I was saved from having to strike up more idle chitchat when the door hissed open and two women entered. The first was a Zeltron, pink skin striking against her dark armor. She gave us all a once-over, then stepped to the side to allow a Human to pass her.

The Human’s white hair was cut short, her eyes calculating as she examined us. “My apologies for the delay. Thank you all for agreeing to meet with me.”

“Thank you for inviting us. Ms. Hedinger, I presume?” I responded, stepping forward to shake her hand.

“Cara Hedinger,” she confirmed, clasping it. “This is Castor.” She nodded to the Zeltron, who’d plopped down and thrown one leg over the arm of the chair. The other woman gave a lazy wave.

After shaking hands with the other three, Cara gestured. “Please, let’s sit and discuss business.”

“Sounds good to me,” Chagrav said, lounging in his seat. “Right to the point: what’s the job?”

“Assistance in transportation of supplies.”

I frowned. _Well_ that’s _not the business I thought we’d be discussing._ “I’m sorry, but isn’t Hedinger Corporations a – well, a transportation company?”

Cara looked amused. “Yes, we are. However, I find myself short-staffed at the moment. Circumstances have led to my contracts here on Contruum to be – limited. I’m willing to pay for whatever help I can get.”  

“What’s the cargo?” asked Chagrav.

“Relief supplies to the nearby city Begoth.”

“Relief supplies?” I straightened. “What’s happened?”

She considered us. Her expression reminded me of my colleague Makas Nysan; the lowered brow, the evaluating gaze, the slightest quirk of the mouth – it was the expression he used when he already knew he was going to confide something, but wanted you to think he was still deciding if you were worthy. It was a common tactic in politics; to make it seem like someone was swayed into trusting you by your mere presence. As though it hadn’t already been decided.

Cara gestured, and the Rodian by the door stepped forward, placing a small holoprojector on the table while Castor whipped out a datapad. Zoya perked up and watched with interest as the woman’s fingers flew over the screen. A moment later, the holoprojector flickered to life with a whirl.

Hovering several inches off the table, shimmering in blue light like in a history holo, was a Star Destroyer.

“This Star Destroyer showed up in the system three months ago,” Cara explaind. “It’s been unobtrusive, for the most part. Not too many people even know it’s just outside the atmosphere. But there have been stormtroopers on-world. There are checkpoints outside all the major cities. And services haven’t been running smoothly, particularly when it comes to supplies. That’s where I’ve offered our services.”

Chagrav leaned forward, studying the ship. “That Destroyer’s outdated. It’s an _Imperial-_ class – they haven’t been used in thirty years.”

His voice soft, Wild Card asked, “Is it the First Order?”

Cara spread her hands. “We can’t be positive. They have the old Imperial stormtrooper armor instead of the new versions, but it doesn’t seem to fit any of the troopers right. And they don’t act like disciplined troops. The governor’s office has been the only point of contact with them, as far as we can tell.”

“And the governor’s just allowing them to stay here?” I demanded.

“This world has no military defense,” Cara pointed out. “Its armaments are limited, and they certainly have nothing to take out a capital ship. My guess is the governor is reluctant to find out whether the turbolasers on that thing are still operational.

From the other side of the holoprojector, Castor raised an eyebrow at me. Zoya was crouched on the edge of her chair, leaning over to read Castor’s datapad. The woman didn’t seem to mind; she angled the screen so Zoya could see better. “And if it _is_ the First Order, do you think the governor wants to risk the consequences?”

I fell silent, a sick twisting in my gut. The First Order had just been a footnote in the HoloNet, another organization that rose around the time of the New Republic. I hadn’t paid them much mind. No one had. And then a week ago… Hosnian Prime… the entire Hosnian System… was obliterated.

Dread settled back into my heart thinking about it. I had almost gone to Hosnian Prime, to shadow Shili’s senator for a little while, to learn how politics worked in the heart of the New Republic. I had been starting to plan for a career that might lead to a Senate seat for Kiros in the Galactic Senate.

But the Senate was gone now. And it still wasn’t clear if there was still a Republic. Maybe the First Order was in charge; they certainly thought they were. The confusion was only growing worse.

And yet… life in the galaxy went on. While they seemed mildly concerned, most civilians I’d talked to weren’t affected in their day-to-day lives. As long as they were left alone, they’d go on the way they always had.

But apparently the people of Contruum weren’t being left alone. I wondered what they thought now.

Chagrav was talking. I pulled myself out of my thoughts.

“ –supplies are we talking about?”

“You don’t need to concern yourself with details,” Cara started to say, but Chagrav interrupted her.

“I _always_ concern myself with details. Because I _will_ _not_ deal in people or spice. And if I find out I’ve been lied to, my employers don’t last very long.”

Cara’s face darkened. “I have no tolerance for slavers or spice trade.” Her voice was pitched low. “I can give you my word, I will never deal in spice or slaves.”

Chagrav seemed satisfied.

“So what’s the payment?” Zoya piped up. She had Castor’s datapad in her hands while its owner watched. The Ryn’s eyes were wide and focused, reflecting the screen’s blue light as she tapped away at it. A moment later, she cried, “HA!”, but then pouted as the device beeped. “Your encryption on this is good! I got through the first layer, but this second layer is a lot more refined.”

Castor grinned. “I like this kid.”

Cara allowed herself a chuckle. “We won’t be moving out until tomorrow morning, so we’ll be putting you up for the night with median accommodations. You’ll be staying at The Tame Tauntaun, a few blocks east of here. Tell the barkeep, Jakk, that I sent you, and he’ll get you settled in. Once the delivery is complete, you’ll be paid one thousand credits to split between the four of you. And depending on how your time here pans out, we may have other odd jobs for you.”

Zoya whistled and grinned at Chagrav. One thousand credits – even split four ways – was an incredibly good rate for a single delivery. It made me wonder what Cara wasn’t telling us.

“In addition to helping load and offload the supplies, your job will be to act as extra security as we make our deliveries. Sometimes just having more bodies is enough to dissuade troublemakers. And on the off-chance we _are_ confronted, you’ll be expected to help defend the crew and cargo.” She paused. “I trust you all have weapons?”

I nodded, as did Chagrav and Wild Card. I’d acquired a small blaster a few months after leaving Kiros, after having a run-in with a thief on Coruscant. _That’s the last time I go down more than a couple levels._

" _I_ don't have a weapon!" Zoya announced loudly, shooting a hopeful glance at Castor.

"And you're not getting one," Chagrav retorted, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Castor patted Zoya's head. "Sorry, little one. That one's your guardian, so his word's final."

Zoya glared at Chagrav. "You're not my real dad."

"You wouldn't be here if I was," he replied mildly. 

“Now then. Any questions?” Cara asked as Castor took her datapad back and closed down the holoprojector.

It was Zoya who asked what was on all our minds. “Yeah. Why us?”

Cara sat back in her seat, looking pleased with the question. “Why indeed?” She nodded to Wild Card, Zoya, Chagrav, and myself in turn. “A reputation as a crafty fighter in the Outer Rim. A skilled mechanic and a slicer in the making. An accomplished bounty hunter with almost a hundred percent success rate. A politician with a way with words and a straightforward agenda. I can think of circumstances in which you would all be very useful to have on my payroll.” She smiled. “I’d like to see what you’re all made of. Consider this a trial run for me to see if I’d like to do business with you in the future.”

 _That could work to my advantage_. If I could do odd jobs for Cara in exchange for trade with Kiros, it would be well worth the effort.

Castor gave us the comm frequency we’d be using to get in touch with them. “We’ll meet in the warehouse district tomorrow morning. They convoy rolls out at nine sharp. We’ll contact you if anything changes.”

Cara stood, and we followed suit. “I’m pleased to be doing business with you all. Enjoy the rest of your day, and we’ll see you tomorrow.” She smiled grimly. “And try not to attract the stormtroopers’ attention in the meantime.”


	2. Meeting World Leaders; Just an Another Taungsday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zaatha settles in and talks with the planetary governor.

The Tame Tauntaun wasn’t nearly as seedy as I worried it would be. Unlike some of the inns I’d stayed at, the place was well-lit, clean, and only a handful patrons had visible blasters. A cantina and restaurant took up the entire main floor of the building, booths lining the walls, its circular bar right in the middle of a ring of tables. We squeezed past crowded hologame tables set up by the door. Well, I squeezed through; the players took one look at Chagrav and moved out of his way, Zoya at his heels and Wild Card trailing behind them.

Jakk the barkeep showed us to our rooms, one level above the cantina. There were only two dozen or so rooms at the inn, and the others were occupied. Judging by the crowd downstairs, it seemed like a popular place; I wondered who got kicked out so we could stay.

The other three set off their separate ways, leaving me to decide what I ought to do next. _There were still a few hours left in the workday._ I changed out of my traveling clothes and donned a more formal dress, and left The Tauntaun.

My thoughts wandered as I walked down the street, navigating the lanes back towards the heart of the city. This whole business made me more wary than I cared to admit. I wasn’t comfortable that Cara’s people had been able to identify me mere hours after being on-world. And the fact that they had singled me out to work on this job was baffling to me.

Hiring a fighter and a bounty hunter to act as escorts made sense. But who in their right mind hired a politician as extra muscle? I wasn’t intimidating; I was a decent shot when I went hunting with my father, but that was about it.

And knowing that it might be stormtroopers that we had to fight…

The thought barely crossed my mind when I rounded a corner and stopped dead.

A squad of five stormtroopers marched up the sidewalk towards me. Their white armor was dinged and dirty, they were out of step, but the bucket-like helmets were unmistakable, as were the blaster rifles held loosely in their hands.

I darted to the edge of the sidewalk and flattened myself against the side of a building, holding my breath –

They passed me without so much as a glance.

I didn’t breathe until they were out of sight.

“Spooky, ain’t they?” a passerby muttered to me as she gave the troopers a furtive glance and scurried across traffic. Other pedestrians went about their business, but their eyes followed the retreating soldiers uneasily.

 _Spooky_ wasn’t the word I would have used. I was born a few years after the Empire fell, and had never seen a stormtrooper in person. But my parents told me stories of them. And that was enough to make me nervous. I kept walking, keeping an eye out for any other squads.

I got turned around a few times, but finally found myself outside the ornate building that I’d seen before the Gand had stopped me. A plaque outside the entryway confirmed it was the Contruum Government Office. Feeling much more at ease, I stepped inside. This was more my element.

Passing the court rooms, I followed the halls until I came to a waiting room outside the administrative offices. Several beings took up most of the seating, some speaking quietly to one another. The Human secretary looked up from her terminal and smiled as I approached her desk.

“My name is Zaatha Naar, of Kiros. I was hoping to meet with Governor Tieb to discuss the possibility of sanctioned trade between our two worlds.”

The woman’s eyebrows raised. “We don’t get requests like that too often.” She pulled up the Governor’s schedule and glanced at it. “He’s in the middle of a holoconference, but an available slot has opened up during his public meeting period in two hours.”

“That will be fine.”

She tapped away at her datapad. “I’ll add you to the lineup. He’ll only have fifteen minutes to meet with you, but if a secondary meeting is necessary, we can schedule a longer session later this week. Identicard?”

I handed her the card. “I do intend for this to be a cursory meeting. Assuming the governor is interested, I expect to be back here within a few days.”

She nodded, inserting the ID into her terminal. Once my information had been downloaded, the console beeped once and she passed it back to me. “If you’d like to wait here, you may, otherwise we have secure terminals on the third level if you have business to attend to.”

“That would be wonderful, thank you.”

After getting the access codes for the network, I made my way to the terminals. The signal to my datapad hadn’t been very strong while travelling, so I had a lot of messages to read.

I spent the next two hours reading an update from my family and replying to them, checking news from Shili’s sector, and researching Hedinger Shipping. From what I could gather, my current employer had inherited the company from her father, and had expanded its purview drastically. They procured and shipped everything from food to medical supplies, ships to weapons, public transport to escort services.

A bit more digging revealed that not everything the company did was over-the-table. I was able to find allusions to smuggling jobs, questionable firearm sales. There wasn’t ever enough evidence to indict the company for wrong-doing – and they probably were able to easily pay off any fines levied against them. I pursed my lips. I hated how corporations like this could operate illegally and still fall in governments’ good graces. They never seemed to face true consequences; my colleague, Nysan, was still aggravated by the continued existence of the Trade Federation, and he hadn’t even been born yet during the Naboo Crisis.

Still, it seemed that Cara had been true to her word in regards to refusing to deal with spice and slaves. An article from a year ago gleefully went into detail about how Cara herself had ordered a sting on a sector of her company found to be transporting slaves. A handful of the rogues had died once blasters were drawn, and the others were arrested by the New Republic.

I could only hope she stuck to her morals as much as the article claimed.

When I returned to the waiting area, a harried-looking Weequay was leaning over the secretary’s desk. “Tieb’s gotta do something,” he wheezed. “Them stormtroopers took my pistol and they got no right to. Look, I got my license right here! What is it, they want to have the only blasters on the planet?”

The secretary looked tired. “I understand, Jho, I do. But the Governor is booked with appointments today.” I caught her eye and she waved me through.

“Why’s _she_ get to go in?” the Weequay complained as I passed.

“She has an appointment. Look, Jho, Governor Tieb has an opening tomorrow…”

Their voices faded as I went through a short hallway and came to an old-fashioned door. I knocked, and when a voice inside called, “Enter!” I turned the nob and stepped inside.

Sitting behind a large, blocky wooden desk was an older Chagrian male, dressed in maroon robes that nearly washed out his light blue skin. He stood as I entered, and though he smiled as he came around the desk to shake my hand, he looked stressed. The skin around his eyes and mouth was tight, and his lethorns twitched anxiously.

“Greetings. I am Governor Aldeer Tieb,” he said, gesturing towards a comfortable-looking chair opposite his desk. “Welcome to Contruum. Zaatha Naar, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” I replied, sitting. “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Governor.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble!” He was still smiling. It seemed plastered to his face. “I’m always happy to meet with visiting dignitaries. Besides, I have this hour open so civilians might come and address their concerns directly with me.”

“That’s…generous of you. Though it sounds exhausting.”

His smile slipped a little. “It can be. Especially as of late.”

“I imagine so,” I said sympathetically. “What with stormtroopers on the ground and a Star Destroyer in orbit –”

Tieb hissed suddenly, his black forked tongue flicking out as he leapt to his feet, his pleasant expression gone. I went still, watching as he hurried to the door and made sure it was firmly shut.

“How do you know about the ship?” he demanded in a low voice.

 _Oh._ I knew Cara said most people didn’t know about the Star Destroyer, but I hadn’t realized it was a _secret._ “I happened to spot it from my transport,” I lied. “I took a commercial flight in, and saw it through a viewport. I honestly thought I had imagined it until I saw a squad of troopers here in the capital.”

He searched my face, eyes narrowed uncertainly, then he deflated. He sighed and adjusted his robes. “I apologize for my reaction.” Tieb moved back to his desk and sat heavily in his high-backed chair. “As of yet, the general populace doesn’t know of the ship. Knowledge of its existence would only cause unnecessary panic. Some folks have long memories. The troopers are bad enough.”

“If I may ask: why are they here?”

Tieb waved a hand dismissively. The movement wasn’t as casual as he probably meant it to be. “They have business on-world to attend to. The ship is merely acting as their base of operation.”

“I’ve heard rumors of checkpoints.”

“Ah, yes.” He shifted uncomfortably. “There are a few outside major cities. They merely hope to limit interference with their current projects. Keeping civilians out of the way of military operations is understandable.”

I made a non-committal noise. For as much as Tieb wanted to act as though everything was fine, he was clearly distracted and anxious. _So, he doesn’t have much say one way or another._ I could respect him trying to keep a hand on the situation – I just hoped he was actually effectual at it.

“But, to business.” His smile was back, though his expression looked guarded. “I understand you’re here on behalf of Kiros’s government?”

“I am.”

“Your file says you were a Representative. I admit I’m unfamiliar with Togrutan political systems. I trust it’s an elected position?”

I settled into the seat, reaching to drape my back lek over the back of the chair. Nothing was quite as uncomfortable as pinching a lek between myself and furniture.  “It is. Our system is identical to Shili’s. The General Council is the legislative assembly, staffed by elected Representatives from all the districts and cities of Kiros. There’s also the High Council, which acts as the high court and an advisory board for the Governor.” I paused. “Shili also has the Council of Elders, but Kiros doesn’t. They’re a self-contained unit representing the isolated tribes of Shili that prefer to maintain the Old Ways.”

Tieb drummed his fingers on the desk. “That’s a lot of councils.”

I shrugged. “It works for us. But the long and short of it is that I was elected to the General Council, served for a term, and am now trying to establish independent trade on behalf of Kiros.”

“Kiros is a colony world, is it not?”

“It began as one. But it’s been established more than fifty years, and our population is growing. Shili’s government has enough to deal with without having to worry about procuring enough goods for both planets.”

He nodded. “I appreciate your initiative. Many would be more than happy to leech resources from their primary world. Is this the first planet you’re visiting with this quest in mind?”

“No. I’ve been traveling the galaxy for the last couple years, establishing contacts here and there. We’re a bit late to the party,” I explained dryly. “Most systems already have their connections, and don’t need another breadbasket trading partner. So, it’s trickier than I expected to solidify trade agreements.”

“You’re being funded by your planet, I would hope? The galaxy is not a cheap place.”

I shook my head, my long lekku shifting. “While what I’m doing is welcomed by the government, it’s not a designated task.”

Tieb’s brow raised.

He was polite enough not to ask about personal funding, at least. Still, there was no harm in telling him. “I pay my own way through odd jobs I pick up. I work for a time, save some credits, move on to the next place. I was secretary for a regional magistrate on Bar’leth for five months just before I came here.” _And now I’m helping transport goods on your own planet._

I hesitated. Part of me wanted to ask Tieb about Hedinger Shipping. Maybe their business here was sanctioned by the government, and there would be no harm mentioning that I’d be helping transport relief supplies. Maybe it would even boost Tieb’s opinion of me to find out I was helping his people.

On the other hand… if Cara was actually doing something illegal, I should definitely _not_ tell Tieb I was associating with her. I weighed my options. And decided not to mention it.

“I wanted to go learn about the galaxy,” I continued, “so I decided not to run for reelection – but I still want to help my people. So, I’m acting as an unofficial emissary. I gauge interest and provide points of contact if an agreement seems promising.”

“Interesting. A bit unusual in practice, but effective.” An alert chimed on his console, drawing his attention. As he read the notice, his expression darkened.

“Everything alright, Governor?” I asked.

He let out a short hiss of frustration. “I do apologize, Ms. Naar. But I’m afraid I need to cut our meeting short. This is a call I _must_ take.” He didn’t sound pleased at all. He looked back to me and forced another smile. “I would be happy to discuss this trade matter further with you. If you would see my secretary on your way out, she’ll set up another meeting between us within the next few days. One where I won’t have to worry about being interrupted,” he added grumpily, glancing again at the chiming comm.

“Of course.” I stood and extended my hand. “Thank you again for seeing me, Governor Tieb. I look forward to our next meeting.”

He rose hastily to shake my hand. “And I, too, Representative.” He paused, still holding my hand. His voice lowered. “And… may I have your word that you won’t discuss the matter of the ship with anyone else?”

He was risking a lot, letting me walk out of here with that little tidbit. Tieb had no real reason to trust me, but for some reason he did. I couldn’t help but feel a bit proud of that fact. “I understand the gravity of that knowledge, sir. I will not tell anyone.”

He squeezed my hand. “Thank you.” The comm chimed again, more urgently. “Good day to you.”

“And you.”

I made sure to close the door tightly behind me as I left. The secretary and I worked out a block of time for me to return in three days, and I left the government office.

The sun was beginning to set as I made my way back towards the Tauntaun _._ Days here were apparently shorter than the ones I’d grown used to on Bar’leth. That was all well and good for me; I was still lagged from my journey here. I had tried to sleep on the ship on my way to Contruum, but I’d been too worried the old transport was going to rattle apart in hyperspace to get much shut eye.

Once I made it to the Tauntaun, I ordered the dinner special, a nerf burger with diced singfruit. The nerf wasn’t nearly as flavorful as thimiar, but at least it was filling. I made small talk with Jakk the barkeep, but when I started to ask more about Hedinger Shipping, the Human admitted he didn’t know much about the corporation. They were just renting out a handful of his rooms for their personnel.

The bar didn’t have any Togrutan brew, which I was a bit disappointed about, so I ordered a short glass of Corellian nectar instead. I sipped it slowly as I people-watched.

Before too long, the cantina was teeming with patrons. It was loud and busy and I kept getting involuntary chills up my montrals whenever someone passed too close, but I didn’t feel threatened. There was a sabaac game going in the corner, and an intense match of dejarik took over one of the game tables. Beside me at the bar, a pair of Human women were giggling together as they watched a male who was trying – and failing – to successfully win a game of pazaak.

The Miraluka – Wild Card – drifted in after a while and maneuvered his way around the crowded tables towards the stairs. He nodded in my direction as he ascended. I couldn’t help but marvel at the fact that an entire race that was incredibly humanoid had developed a way to navigate without eyes. Supposedly there was some other sense they had that allowed them to “see”, but I didn’t understand it.

At least this place had a friendly air to it. There’d only been one fistfight since I sat down, and Jakk had ended it very quickly. A hiccuping Rodian hopped up on the bar and tried to lead the crowd in a stirring rendition of “Those Ole Spacer Blues”, but was pulled down by his howling friends after the second verse.

Stifling a yawn as I paid for my drink and meal, I weaved my way through the throng and climbed the stairs. I locked the door and readied myself for bed, the muffled sounds of the cantina drifting up around me. As I shut off the lights, I found myself fervently hoping that I hadn’t gotten myself involved in something over my head.

Floorboards creaked outside my door. Probably just someone passing by.

I moved my blaster within easy reach before I fell asleep.


	3. I Make A Deal with an Arms Dealer. Don’t Tell My Mother.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zaatha, Chagrav, Zoya, and Wild Card find out what they were actually hired to do. They're less than pleased.

We rendezvoused with Cara and her people the next morning at the assigned location. The warehouse district was a cluster of squat domed buildings squashed together in row after row of storage and assembly space. The narrow lanes were bustling with activity as the workday began, loaders and rigs rumbling past as a familiar Gand stepped out of a doorway to greet us.

“Right on schedule,” he warbled approvingly. “This way.”

He led us around the side of the building and gestured for us to pause as a speeder laden with crates zipped past and disappeared onto the main road. Ten or so assorted beings busied themselves loading shipping containers onto five wide-bed enclosed transports. Two sentries had large blaster rifles half-raised, alert for trouble.

Flitting from transport to transport, Castor’s datapad seemed glued to her hand, examining each crate, tapping furiously at the screen, then moving on to the next. At the center of the flurry of movement was Cara, hands in the pockets of her green vest. Her white hair was pinned back, but a few strands kept falling into her face. Her eyes lighted on us as she brushed the hair back and she nodded.

“Good morning,” she called as we came closer. “Just doing a final check, then we’ll be off.”

Zoya had perched herself on Chagrav’s broad armored shoulder, tail twitching as she peered at the crates. “Where is it you said we’re going?”

“Begoth,” Cara answered. “It’s a few hours from here. We’ll be taking a bit of a roundabout way to get there – one of the secondary roads.”

“To avoid any checkpoints?” I guessed.

She shrugged. “Partially. Also, I can’t stand traffic.” Castor waved to her and she nodded. “You have your weapons?”

Wild Card, Chagrav, and I nodded. Zoya pouted.

“Chagrav, you’ll go to the lead vehicle with Assassin.” She gestured to the Gand, who shouldered his rifle and clambered into the driver’s seat.

Chagrav raised a brow. “‘Assassin’?” he repeated.

Cara merely smiled. “Codenames are easier in our line of business.”

The bounty hunter shrugged. “C’mon, Zoya.”

“I wanna ride with Castor,” the girl protested.

The Zeltron patted her head. “Sorry, little one, I’m staying here. Gotta keep things running while Cara’s gone.”

“You can ride in the second transport with me if you’d like,” Cara offered.  

Zoya grinned and scampered off.

“So we’re clear,” I said, crossing my arms, trying to ignore the nervousness twisting my gut. _It’s just transporting relief supplies._ “You want us to do what _exactly_?”

“Watch for anything that might pose a threat to the convoy, have your blaster ready, and follow my orders if things go sideways.”

I pursed my lips together. _Too late to back out now_. “Very well.”

“Then, Zaatha, if you would join Rider in the fourth speeder. Wild Card, are you able to drive one of these?”

The Miraluka nodded.

“Good. We’re going more short-handed than I’d prefer, but I need people here to watch over the rest of our assets. Saber will be with you in the fifth vehicle.

At a signal from Cara, the rest of her people finished strapping down the containers and checked the fuel gauges of the transports one last time. I climbed into the transport next to a Weequay.

“Should I have my blaster out?” I asked in what I hoped was an off-hand way.

“Nah,” he responded in a raspy voice. “Just have it in reach.” Rider brought the repulsor lifts online, the transport humming to life, and at a signal from Cara, the convoy moved out.

I leaned back in the passenger seat, glad for the open cockpit, as my montrals probably would have hit the roof otherwise. The breeze felt good as we picked up speed and approached the edge of the city. It looked like we were indeed taking a lesser-used road; I could see busy traffic lanes in the distance.

Just as we approached the city limits, the transports’ comms crackled to life.

“Checkpoint up ahead,” Assassin’s voice warned.

Cara’s voice jumped in immediately. “If they flag us down, comply. Direct them back to me. Everyone pay attention.”

I tensed and reached for the blaster on my belt, but Rider shook his head, his two thin braids swinging. “Nothin’ hostile. Not yet. Cara’s got a plan for this.”

“Does the First Order even have the authority to set up checkpoints?”

“Who knows. Things the way they are, seems everything’s fair game.”

Ahead of us, the line of transports had stopped, and Rider followed suit. Furtively as I could, I started to lean out to get a better look –

When a stormtrooper appeared around the transport in front of us.

I jumped back in my seat, pinching a lek in the process. I grimaced.

There was another trooper on the drivers’ side too. “We’re checking your cargo,” he drawled to Rider, the modulator in his helmet masking his real voice. The chest plating clacked together as he walked; it was much too large for his scrawny frame.

Rider waved a hand unconcernedly. “Have at it. Your boss talkin’ to my boss?”

“They are,” the trooper on my side confirmed, before moving to the rear of the transport. I glanced back to see them pry open one of the shipping containers. A heap of ration bars lay inside. The troopers looked at it for a moment, then let the lid fall back. They repeated the process with another container – this one filled with what looked like standard medical supplies. They shut the lid, thumped once on the bed of the transport and called, “Clear.”

I couldn’t help it; I frowned.

Rider shot me a warning look. “G’day to you, gents,” he called as the two troopers walked to inspect the fifth vehicle.

A few tense minutes later, the stormtroopers all stepped away from the convoy, the captain calling out, “You’re clear to pass.”

“Finally,” Rider breathed. He relaxed his grip on the blaster rifle tucked beneath the control consol. With the whir of engines, we started moving again. I did a quick helmet count as we cleared the checkpoint. Eight troopers total.

The landscape raced past as we travelled, the trees towering and twisting on either side. Once sure the stormtroopers were well behind us, I ventured, “I’ve never been stopped at a checkpoint before. But that seemed to go a bit too smoothly.”

Rider nodded, running a hand thoughtfully over the frills on his jowls. “Sure did. Should’ve rifled through them crates, or at least opened them all. Should’ve checked IDs. Cara’s right, then. They probably ain’t real stormtroopers.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?”

He shrugged. “Sure. No First Order. But it means someone else got ahold of a whole Star Destroyer, and’s got the crew to fly it.”

I felt a flash of fear. _Well, when you put it that way…_ A dozen deadly cartels and gangs and criminal elements came to mind, and the idea of any of them having access to even one capital ship was horrifying. Rider fell silent, letting me stew in those unpleasant thoughts.

About an hour later, Assassin’s voice came over the comms again. “Hold up a moment.”

“What is it?” Cara demanded.

“Something’s wrong up ahead.”

Rider and I exchanged a look as he brought the transport to a halt. This time, I fully leaned out of the vehicle, drawing my blaster. Ahead of us, Assassin leapt out of the cockpit and drew his blaster rifle. Cara and one of her people from the third transport stepped out onto the road, ready to lay cover fire.

Nothing lay ahead of us on the road. Still, Assassin crept forward.

The first few drops of adrenaline hit my veins. I felt like I was out on a hunt, keeping watch for any hidden predators. I scanned the tree line, looking for any silhouette that seemed out of place. I had no clue what kind of creatures populated Contruum’s forests, and I hoped we weren’t about to find out. I adjusted my grip on the blaster. _And I hope it’s not the sentient sort of trouble either._

Assassin was several dozen yards ahead of the convoy, blaster trained on a certain spot as he walked closer –

And dove off the road as the bomb detonated.

A blinding flash left me seeing spots, Cara was barking orders, but my head was still ringing from the explosion. Debris clattered around the first vehicle, residual flames shuddered on the road ahead of us, someone raced over to where the Gand had disappeared while I aimed my blaster at the woods. If we were going to get ambushed, this was the time, I braced myself for the scream of plasma bolts to streak through the trees towards us –

But they never came.

The woods stayed silent, except for the frantic squawk of some avian creatures.

Chagrav reemerged from the trees, hoisting his blaster in one hand and supporting Assassin in the other. The Gand may have been dazed, but I wasn’t good at reading insectoid expressions. As the pair returned to the transports, Assassin seemed to regain his footing, managing to walk on his own by the time he approached Cara.

“Roadside explosives,” he reported dryly. “Crude. Not military-grade.”

Cara frowned, then hit the comm button. “Saber, I want a reading.”

The Rodian from the fifth truck hurried forward with an elaborate-looking scanner. He poised himself at the front of the convoy and aimed it down the road, then examined the display screen. “Looks like we’re clear. No other energy signatures for the next mile.”

The Human gestured. “Chagrav, take the scanner and look for any abnormal energy readings. Saber, keep an eye on our tail.” Her eyes swept the tree line. “I don’t know who plants a bomb and doesn’t wait around for an ambush. But if they don’t want to meet, that’s fine with me. Forward.”

We were tense the rest of the trip.

Rider spent most of the time driving one-handed, keeping the other resting on the stock of his blaster rifle. Every time the comm crackled, we snapped to attention. I kept an eye on the trees. Once, I saw a quadruped with long stringy fur, but it bounded away in fear as we rumbled past.

After another few long hours, Begoth came into view. Its durasteel buildings lacked the height of the capital, but its sprawling city limits took up much more surface area. Rider explained briefly that Begoth was both an industrial and agricultural center for the continent.

We were stopped at another checkpoint as we approached the city. It went much like before: a few troopers swaggered over, opened two or three crates and waved us through after a cursory glance and a quick talk with Cara. I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe Cara was paying them off.

The convoy cut its way through the traffic, but no one paid us much mind as we drove into the heart of the city.

The stormtrooper presence was even heavier here than it was in Alalys; there seemed to be a squad at every corner. Fear filled the air around them as civilians passed by, and I wondered if something had happened here.

At long last, we came to a halt outside what looked like the loading bay of an exhibition hall. A collection of beings stood waiting for us, a Human male stepping forward to take Cara’s hand and help her down from the vehicle. He gestured, and his people set to work unloading the containers.

I helped a Kiffar carry the crate with ration bars into the bay area, a wide echoing chamber full of vehicles. We had barely set it down next to a conveyer belt when a Nautolan skipped over and popped the lid off. Without pausing, she pressed a button on the side of the container, and a line appeared around the edges of the box. She gripped it and hauled upward.

I could only stare as she lifted away the tray – because that’s all it was – of ration bars, revealing a hidden compartment underneath.

A compartment filled with blasters.

I froze, staring at them in horror as I realized the implication. _We just – I just – smuggled weapons into an occupied city._

Mumbling something about getting back to the convoy, I backed away, but the Kiffar and Nautolan didn’t seem to notice; they had already pulled out a blaster each and were examining them closely.

There was a whirring in my head as I strode towards the vehicles, and suddenly I noticed details I hadn’t seen earlier. The hidden armaments on the speeders, the concealed weapons on the beings, a group just inside the bay huddled around a holomap of the city – I walked faster. Catching Chagrav’s eye out on the loading dock, I jerked my head towards the fifth truck. He nodded and called to Zoya, who raced over and swung onto his shoulder.

Wild Card leaned against the nose of the speeder, arms crossed. He turned his head towards us as we approached. “There seems to be some excitement here.”

“We were carrying blasters,” I said in a low tone.

“Not just blasters,” Chagrav corrected. “Energy packs, detonators, personal shield generators, the works.”

“So much for ‘relief supplies’,” Wild Card mused.

Zoya piped up, “They were hired to transport supplies to the local militia here. They’ve been springing up over the past few weeks to push back against the stormtroopers.”

We stared at her.

“And you’re just bringing this up _now_?” Chagrav demanded.

“Cara only told me on the ride over,” Zoya said defensively. “’Sides, we would have taken the job anyway.”

_I wouldn’t have._

“Everything alright here?”

I turned sharply to find Cara behind us.

Wild Card replied mildly, “We were just discussing how surprised we are to learn the nature of this job. We didn’t realize we were supplying a militia movement.”

If Cara was taken aback that we knew, she didn’t show it. “Hired help is more likely to assist when transporting benign cargo. I thought perhaps you wouldn’t sign on with us if you knew the actual freight.”

“We would have,” Chagrav said, nodding to Zoya. “But I don’t appreciate being lied to about what a job entails.”

The Human shrugged. She seemed very calm about all this. “In a sense, it _is_ ‘relief supplies’. We’re helping the militia relieve themselves of the stormtrooper occupation.”

The Rattataki scowled. “I also don’t appreciate technicalities and loopholes. You want to hire me, you tell me point-blank what I’m doing.”

She inclined her head. “Very well. In that case, I should say that there’s a second part of this job that I require your help with.”

I crossed my arms. Part of me wanted to walk away and do no more business with the arms dealer. But some part of me was curious, so I waited.

She gestured to the transport we were clustered around, which hadn’t been touched by the militia crew. “The supplies in this vehicle was purchased by another group that is also looking for some extra defense against the stormtroopers. We’re scheduled to meet an hour outside the city, at a particular set of coordinates in the middle of the forest.”

“And who’s this other group?” Chagrav asked.

“They’re a small-time spice cartel.”

The bounty hunter’s face darkened, and I felt the same way. “You said you didn’t deal in spice.”

“I don’t,” Cara said, her tone clipped. “I don’t transport spice, and I refuse to be paid in spice. Our arrangement is strictly weapons for credits. I don’t enjoy dealing with spice dealers, but they pay me well. So as long as they keep the drug away from any transaction with me, I’ll do business with them.”

I glared at her, but she didn’t seem to notice. Her justification of arming a spice cartel sounded so simple, and I wondered how she could ignore the fact that by arming them, she strengthened them, and by strengthening them, she enabled them to increase their presence in the spice market. _And from there, who knows?_ They might absorb other cartels, gain a wider distribution area and consumer base. Spice was so addictive, so destructive, it could decimate entire pockets of communities.

Chagrav grunted. “Fine. Fine, Zoya and I will come with you.” He didn’t look happy about it. “I need that money to get my ship out of the impound.”

Cara nodded, then looked at myself and Wild Card.

The Miraluka spoke first. “While I appreciate being in your temporary employ, I’m afraid other business has come up that I must attend to. I will not be continuing in your service.”

Cara pursed her lips, and she seemed to be thinking quickly. “If it’s more payment you require –”

“It is not. My business is my own.”

Her jaw clenched briefly. “Very well. Thank you for escorting us this far.” She gestured over her shoulder. “Go find Saber, and he will give you your payment."

Wild Card bowed his head. “Best of luck to you all,” he said before walking away and disappearing among the militia members.

Cara turned to me. She gestured away from the vehicle. “A word, if you would, Ms. Naar?”

Assuming my most neutral expression, I followed her a short distance from the others.

She came to a stop, her eyes searching my face. “You’re considering leaving as well?”

I met her gaze. “I don’t deal with criminals.”

“A noble position, to be sure,” she said with a smirk. “In practice, you may find it difficult to stick with. You know politics. Sometimes you have to be willing to sacrifice some of your morals to achieve greater ends.”

My eyes narrowed. “Some politicians do. _I_ don’t.”

“Then consider this your first temptation,” she said wryly. She planted her hands on her hips and tilted her head to the side. “I know you’ve been across the galaxy looking to establish independent trade for your homeworld. I can help with that.”

I opened my mouth to refuse on principle, then hesitated. “How do you mean?”

“I trust you’ve done research on my company. Yes, I deal in weapons and other 'regulated commodities'. But I am the head of a legitimate, far-reaching shipping company. I can procure any resources you and your people are unable to establish.”

“What – _exactly_ – are you offering?”

“With Wild Card unwilling to continue, I am severely shorthanded for this final delivery. Even rearranging my people, I’ll be two blasters short. I may be doing business with this outfit, but that doesn’t mean I trust them. My offer is this: Come with me on this delivery to the cartel, and I will open trade with Kiros.”

_Stang._ This is what I had hoped for when I agreed to this, wasn’t it? Though, that was before I realized I was helping smuggle arms. But if it could help my people, if it could get us more resources… did I have any right to refuse on my own personal morals?

My focus drifted past Cara and rested on the militia behind her. I let out a short breath. “Not good enough.”

Her eyebrows raised. “Oh?”

“If you have a sanctioned presence on Kiros, what’s to stop you from turning around and striking deals with any criminal groups, or with the black market on Shili? You’ve already demonstrated that you don’t particularly care who your clients are. If you begin dealing with the underworld beings, it could put the rest of the populace in danger.” I nodded to the crates piled in the bed of the transport. “If you can get this kind of weaponry here, I can’t imagine what else you’re able to smuggle across borders. I need more than an agreement to trade. I need a guarantee.”

Instead of walking away like I expected, Cara nodded thoughtfully. “I can respect your position. Very well. You assist me on this delivery, I will open trade with Kiros. In addition, I will not deal with any criminal elements in the entire system.”

_Within the entire system._ That would benefit not only Kiros, but Shili as well. Slowly, I smiled. “I could agree to that. Of course, I’d like documentation for my records.”

At that, she laughed. “I would be concerned if you didn’t.” As she took out her datapad and tapped away at it, she said, “I don’t know how Kiros politics are. But out in the galaxy, you’re going to learn that if you’re actually trying to do some good for your planet, you’ll have to cut some deals that make you feel sick. Best get used to it now.”

I felt it wisest not to respond.

She held out the datapad to me to proofread, and after I was sure all the wording was proper, I signed the doc and passed it back. Cara signed with a flourish, then transmitted it to my own datapad. “We have an agreement,” she said, smiling. “Glad to have you along, Zaatha. Now, I’ve got to get some things in order. We’ll rest here for another hour or so, and then we’ll move out.” With a quick nod, she turned and strode back towards the loading bay, calling for Assassin and Saber.

_If it will help my people, it’s worth it_ , I thought. I knew in my heart it was true, but that didn’t stop the disgust I felt welling in my gut.  


	4. My First Firefight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second part of the delivery trip does not go according to plan.

When we left to meet the cartel, we took only two transports. I rode with Cara, Chagrav, and Zoya in the first one, while Assassin and Saber took the second. We were largely silent as we travelled. Chagrav and I kept our eyes on the sides of the road as Cara drove. Zoya entertained herself by studying the controls and wires of the transport.

The sour feeling hadn’t gone away, and I half-regretted my decision. But I’d already agreed to see this through. So I held my tongue, swallowed the bad taste in my mouth, and kept watch for trouble.

After an hour, the dense twisting trees fell away as we hit a clearing, leaving the road behind us as we went over land surrounded on all sides by long green grasses and stout shrubs. We crested a low hill –

I drew in a sharp breath.

“ _Shab_ ,” Chagrav spat in Mando’a.

In the field ahead of us waited a mass of people lounging around a handful of speeders, watching as we approached. Most of them were lightly armored or otherwise practically dressed. But it was the white armored individuals that caught my eye.

Cara’s lips pursed. “Saber, I need a headcount,” she said briskly into the comm.

The Rodian’s voice crackled back almost immediately. “Fifteen cartel members in three groups, five stormtroopers mixed in – kriff, and a riot trooper.”

“The cartel’s working with stormtroopers?” Zoya asked, peeking over the dashboard.

“With whoever’s wearing the stormtrooper armor, at any rate,” Chagrav answered, putting on his t-visor helmet.

I glanced at the white-haired woman, thinking about how she was preoccupied with having enough blasters. “Did you know?”

She scoffed. “I expected them to have thugs. Not troopers.”

“So what’s the plan?” We were still heading straight towards the waiting group. 

“As long as they don’t open fire, the deal’s still on.” But even as she spoke, Cara’s eyes swept them, calculating. “Be ready, but do nothing until I say so.”

Sooner than I would have liked, we pulled up a short distance from the cartel members and troopers. Cara exited the transport first, giving a brief wave to the watchers.

Zoya moved to hop down, but Chagrav made a subtle gesture. “Wait here,” he muttered, his voice distorted by the helmet. She pouted, but hunkered down in the seat.

Chagrav and I followed at a distance as Saber and Assassin passed us to flank Cara, weapons visible but not held aggressively. Saber pushed a crate ahead of him, having loaded it onto a repulsor tray.

The cartel was made entirely of Humans of various skin tones – or at least, all Humans and near-Humans. Half of them straightened as we approached, but the rest stayed lazing against their speeders. They were confident and disinterested – or at least, that’s what they wanted us to think.

One man broke away from the rest, and two others fell into step behind him. Pale-skinned and sinewy, he wore two holstered blasters, an energy-dampening vest over a high-necked shirt, and a sickly smile.

“Ms. Hedinger,” he called, spreading his hands in welcome. “So pleased you chose to keep our arrangement.”

“Business is business, Intigo,” she answered smoothly. She patted the crate. “Two dozen E-Twenty-Two blaster rifles, refurbished to maximum efficiency. As ordered. The other two dozen are in the transport.”

“Excellent.” Intigo clapped his hands together once, sharply. His two goons stepped forward to take the crate, but Assassin raised his blaster warningly. The men froze, their own blasters snapping up. A shudder ran through the field as everyone tensed.

Everyone but Cara.

“Not so fast, Intigo.” She seemed unconcerned by the sudden aggression. “I need to see my payment. Salvaging these blasters took a lot of work on my part, and I intend to make sure you’ve upheld your end of the bargain.”

The cartel leader waved off his men’s blasters, which they lowered reluctantly. At a nod from Cara, Assassin lowered his as well. I watched the stormtroopers; they’d slunk back against the speeder, their blaster rifles propped next to them. They didn’t seem ready to shoot if things went bad. _Fine by me._

The only trooper that seemed alert was the riot trooper, his shield held in front of him, electrostaff primed, waiting. If his underlings were incompetent, he certainly wasn’t.

Intigo gave that slippery smile again. “Of course, of course. A perfectly understandable request. Now, an astute businesswoman such as yourself understands how new opportunities might emerge that – ah, change the parameters of an agreement.”

_That doesn’t sound good._

Cara didn’t miss a beat. “I don’t agree to any changes. We’ll take the payment, then we’ll be off.”

The man shook his head. “It’s a good deal, I assure you. A product you can turn around and sell for an even greater profit.” Gesturing, Intigo held out his arm as someone hurried over with a case. Taking it, he closed the distance between him and Cara. I couldn’t see her face from where I was, but her stance remained relaxed. He pressed the case into her hands, patting it twice before stepping back several paces, clasping his hands patiently in front of him.

Cara opened it. The seconds seemed to drag on as she stared at its contents. Assassin leaned over to peer inside; he made an odd clicking noise behind his ammonia respirator.

“Spice.”

Cara’s voice was flat, matter-of-fact. But there was an edge to her tone that sent a warning chill up my spine. I glanced at Chagrav. The way he angled his head was enough to know that he had heard it too.

“Intigo,” she continued, her voice still very flat, “you know I don’t deal in spice. I made my position quite clear.”

“I know that’s what you _said,_ Ms. Hedinger,” he drawled. “But come now, how could you refuse such a lucrative industry? This little amount will be more than enough to help you get your footing in establishing buyers and distributors. It’s a smart business move, one that I believe more than covers your fees for obtaining this equipment.”

There was a long moment of silence. I wished I could see Cara’s face. She lifted a compact bag from the case and broke the seal, holding it up to eye level.

And flipped it upside down. Its powdery contents spilled into the grass, some particles getting caught in a slight breeze and drifting into the man’s face.

Cara shifted her footing.

Intigo still looked affronted when the blaster bolt struck him between the eyes.

I yelped in alarm as Intigo’s body keeled over. The stormtroopers and mobsters sprang to their feet, but Assassin and Saber were already moving. The Gand windmilled his arm and released a small sphere, and a moment later a clump of cartel members went flying in a fiery explosion, their speeder cartwheeling in the aftershock until it crashed on its side nearby. Cara dove for cover behind it, aiming at the riot trooper and getting off two shots before she had to duck back as blasterfire peppered the transport.

By that time, all blasters were drawn. I leapt down behind the weapons crate, trying to lower my head enough that my montrals didn’t stick out. I looked around the side of the crate and shot at a stormtrooper that was starting to move towards us.

The bolt struck his shoulder and sent him reeling. I only had a moment to realize that I’d shot _a_ _person_ before he spun towards me and aimed his blaster. I ducked, but didn’t hear any firing. I risked a glance back.

Saber was mowing them down, his personal repeating blaster sweeping side to side with deadly precision and piercing armor, chests, heads, necks. Assassin and Chagrav barreled forward, taking out anyone who survived Saber’s initial sweep, moving in sync as though they’d trained together for years.

I spotted the riot trooper bearing down on Cara, her blaster shots deflecting harmlessly off his shield. The other three were focused on the last group that had holed up behind a large speeder – they weren’t looking behind them, they didn’t see the riot trooper. I couldn’t get a good angle from where I was, so I sucked in a quick breath and darted out from behind the crate, shooting as I sprinted towards one of the cartel’s abandoned transports.

One bolt glanced off the riot trooper’s shoulder pad, and another flashed right in front of his visor. The trooper leapt back in surprise, turning to look –

The speeder I was running towards suddenly came to life and reversed at full speed, slamming right into him.

The riot trooper was thrown several feet before toppling to the ground, his shield and electrostaff flying from his grip. I stared in confusion. _How in the galaxy_ –

The driver-side door opened and Zoya poked her head out. “Did I get him? It felt like I got him.”

The trooper lay crumpled, groaning. “You got him,” I confirmed dazedly.

Belatedly, I realized the shriek of blasterfire had stopped. I looked around and found myself surrounded by bodies. The only ones still standing were myself, Cara, Zoya, Chagrav, Assassin, and Saber. Every one of the cartel members and troopers lay dead around us. Only the riot trooper was alive. Cara’s men and Chagrav picked their way over the corpses back towards us.

The Rattataki stopped next to me, taking off his helmet and scrutinizing me. “Are you alright?”

“Fine. You?”

He nodded, but looked pointedly at my hand, and I realized that he hadn’t been asking if I’d been hurt. My fingers clutched the holdout blaster so tightly my knuckles were pale, shaking at my side. No, not my fingers – my whole arm, my whole body was shaking. My breath came in short bursts, adrenaline still singing in my veins, heart hammering in my chest. I’d been in one or two life-or-death situations before, on hunts back on Shili and Kiros, and right then I felt like I was waiting for an akul to burst out of the woods. _It’s over_ , _I’m safe._ I focused on my breathing, the way my father had taught me to.

“I’ve never been shot at,” I explained, slowly holstering my blaster. “I’ll be alright. It’s just… a different type of fear than I’m used to.”

Chagrav nodded. “I can understand that. It wasn’t until after I started working with my mentor that I learned to not panic around blasterfire.”

“Your mentor?” I asked distractedly as we began walking towards the others.

“She’s one of the toughest Mandalorians I’ve ever met. She’s been teaching me her clan’s ways, their customs. Mandalorians are a warrior people, and as long as you meet their criteria, they’ll accept you into their clan. That’s my goal.”

Cara stood next to the commandeered speeder, straightening her vest. Her hair hung haphazardly in her face, and she took a moment to retie it at the back of her head. “Well done, all of you. That could have gone much worse.”

I looked out at the dead and decided not to respond.

“Zoya, what were you thinking?” Chagrav demanded, crossing his arms as he glared at the little Ryn, who was perched on the nose of the speeder, her tail twitching behind her.

“I was _thinking_ of saving Cara.”

Chagrav rubbed his temples. “How did you even get over to that speeder without getting shot?”

“I ran,” she answered brightly, “very fast.”

“And you hotwired the speeder?” Cara asked, eyeing Zoya with interest.

Zoya sniffed. “Wasn’t very hard. Their computer systems weren’t exactly safeguarded.” She grinned. “Hit him with his own speeder!”

“Boss,” Saber called. “He’s coming to.”

He and Assassin towered over the riot trooper, blasters trained on him as he jerkily rolled to his knees. They’d taken his weapons and helmet, and the dark-haired Human man squinted up at them, his mouth twisting into a scowl.

Cara strolled towards them, kicking out viciously at the empty spice case as she went; it careened through the air and crashed into a speeder. She drew closer, inspecting the man. “What’s your name?”

“Doesn’t matter now.”

“What were you doing, working for Intigo?”

He snorted and shook his head. “Command was hired by the mobsters. I follow orders.”

“And what are those orders?”

His expression became guarded and he fell silent.

Assassin spoke up. “What are we to do with him?”

“He could have some useful information the militia would be willing to pay for.” Cara considered the trooper. “Who do you work for?”

A flash of fear crossed his face. Instead of answering, he said, “Once they get ahold of you, you’re going to wish you’d never been born.”

“Is that a threat?” Cara wondered.

“A fact.” His jaw clenched, but he held her gaze. “Better dead than to let them know your failure.” He made a sudden motion with his wrist. Something glinted from his gauntlet.

Chagrav lunged forward.

Not fast enough.

The trooper drove a concealed blade up into his neck.

Zoya recoiled. I stood rooted to the spot. Chagrav and Saber tried to staunch the bleeding, but the damage was done; after a few moments of horrible gurgling, the trooper’s eyes glazed over and his body went limp.

“Look away, Zoya,” Chagrav said, his voice surprisingly gentle. He wiped the blood from his gloves onto the grass.

The girl’s gaze dropped to her feet, though she snuck a few glances at the body.

Cara was frowning down at the trooper. “Well, that doesn’t bode well.” She considered the field around us. “Saber, send a message to Castor. I need a few more of our people out here with digging equipment. I want these bodies buried as quickly as possible.”

I looked around us as Saber pulled out his commlink and stepped away. _That’s a lot of holes to dig._ “You won’t burn them?”

“I don’t want to risk drawing attention with the smoke,” she replied. She finally looked at Chagrav and I, but she seemed distracted. “The three of you will receive your payments once we’re back in Alalys. We’re going to make a short stop back in Begoth first – I’m going to offer to sell these E-Twenty-Twos to the militia.” Her gaze sharpened; it seemed like she was grounding herself with talk of business. “No sense in smuggling them back through checkpoints if they can be sold here.”

“What makes you think they’ll be interested?” I asked.

“The militia’s demand for additional weapons has been increasing the last week or so. What we dropped off to them was their largest order. Until their leader asked me today if I could procure any explosives or treaded vehicles.” Cara grimaced. “They’re getting ready to make a move. And I don’t intend to be here when they do.”

Her gaze focused on the stormtroopers and her face settled into a resolute expression. “I’m moving my people out by week’s end,” she decided. “If you’re interested, I can keep you in mind for any other jobs that may crop up while we’re still here. After that… we can be in touch, if you would be interested in continuing to work with us.”

“I can’t speak for Zaatha Naar, here,” Chagrav said, nodding at me. “But Zoya and I would be happy to do future jobs.”

“Yeah!” Zoya put in. “This is fun.”

Cara looked to me, waiting for an answer.

“I’ll have to see,” I hedged.

She nodded, then turned to issue more instructions to her men.

 _Maybe it would be better to get off-world now_ , I thought as I helped Chagrav load the weapons back onto the speeder. But no – I had an appointment with Governor Tieb to keep. My agreement with Cara would certainly be beneficial, but having another government-sanctioned trading partner wouldn’t hurt. No, a few more days on Contruum would be fine.

It was clear that tensions were escalating. _Now it’s just a matter of keeping myself out of it._

But even then, part of me realized it was too late for that.


	5. A Cerean, a Wookiee, and a Miraluka Walk into a Bar…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strangers become fast friends. Well, maybe not friends, but loosely allied acquaintances.

It was a relief to get back to The Tame Tauntaun. Even though it was still early evening, I was exhausted; I’d forgotten how draining adrenaline was. So, when Saber dropped us off at the cantina, I immediately went to my room to sleep.

For a few moments after waking up in the morning, I couldn’t remember where I was. I rolled out of the stiff bed – _Stang, I miss the cushions back home_ – and when I saw my blaster on the bedside table, the day before came flooding back. I pushed the thoughts away as I got ready.

My datapad pinged, signaling that the credits from Cara had been transferred to my account overnight. I felt a weight lift from my shoulders as I realized I had more than enough to last me for a few months. Maybe I _would_ go home to visit my family after all.

Downstairs, I found Chagrav and Zoya just sitting down to eat. They waved me over once they saw me. It had been ages since I’d shared a meal with someone, and I joined them with barely a second thought. There were just three other people scattered around the cantina, and I kept glancing over my shoulder at them, wondering if they could tell that we had been in a firefight the day before. Of course, obviously they couldn’t tell, but that did little to ease my paranoia.

After we’d each downed a cup of spiran caf and orderd breakfast, we started talking. Zoya, it turned out, was originally from a colony on an ice planet called Ilum. She didn’t know her parents. “Never thought about them too much,” she said, using both hands to lift her glass of jawa juice. “I like the order that raised me. Phil has always been nothing but nice to me.”

“Then why did you run away?”

She frowned and scratched her ear. “I didn’t really ‘run away’. It just…felt like it was time to go.” She shrugged.

“And you stowed away on Chagrav’s ship?”

“Not at first. I hopped a few ships before I wound up on his, but no one else ever found me. I can get places most people can’t,” she added brightly.

“She likes ventilation shafts, and the crawlspaces between bulkheads,” Chagrav put in.

He was still in his Mandalorian armor, his T-visor helmet sitting beside his plate. Curious, I asked, “How long have you been a bounty hunter?”

His brow furrowed as he chewed. “A while. With my skill set, it was a reasonable career.”

“I can’t say I’ve heard of you,” I admitted.

He gave a wry grin. “Sometimes that’s for the best. Less of a name, fewer competitors worrying you’re a threat. Especially now that Zoya’s with me, I don’t want to make myself more of a target.”

“Are _you_ traveling with anyone?” Zoya asked me.

I felt the familiar twinge of homesickness. “No. I’ve been traveling by myself. I haven’t been home in a while.”

Zoya looked up at me, blinking her big eyes. “You sound sad.”

“I miss my family. Holocalls and messages aren’t the same. Togruta are very family-oriented – not many feel comfortable striking out on their own.”

“Yet you did,” Chagrav pointed out.

“Because I thought I could do something useful to help my people. And I’ve been marginally successful, so far. My homeworld has a few more trade agreements than we did before I started. I want to do more, though.”

“It’s a big galaxy. Lots of opportunities out there.”

 _It’s just a matter of whether or not I’m willing to take them._ I had thought I’d be willing to accept most opportunities that came my way. The memory of the mobsters’ bodies resurfaced, and I winced.

Chagrav and I continued to make small talk as we ate, Zoya losing interest in the conversation after a while. She pulled out a datapad and worked on it, her brow furrowed in concentration. When Chagrav finally noticed it, he frowned.

“That’s not yours. Where did you get that, Zoya?”

She looked up. “From the riot trooper.”

“ _What?”_

“I mean, he wasn’t using it anymore,” she said defensively. “It was in the speeder. And unlike the speeder, this is safeguarded. That means there’s something important in here. And I wanna know what it is.”

I eyed the device uneasily. “Is that the best idea? Won’t it – I don’t know – explode or melt if you don’t get the access codes right?”

“That’s why I’m going to slice it right the first time,” Zoya said, as though it were obvious.

Chagrav shook his head. “Well, if you go up in a fireball cuz you put in the wrong code, don’t come crying to me.”

Zoya’s mouth quirked. “I won’t, cuz then I’ll be dead.”

The bounty hunter sighed deeply and passed a hand over his face.

“That girl’s going to age you faster than anything else,” a new voice said.

A short figure stood just behind Zoya, clad in Mandalorian armor from helmet to boots. I spotted at least two blasters, two knives, a utility belt full of gadgets, and a jetpack. How they’d gotten so close without any of us noticing, I had no idea.

Looking between this figure and Chagrav, I realized that Chagrav’s armor was just an imitation of the real deal. His helmet, chestplate, and pauldrons had been fashioned to _look_ Mandalorian, but it lacked the smoothness and durability of the stranger’s. Chagrav’s armor looked like it could take a hit; the stranger’s looked like it could do the hitting.

Zoya craned her neck up to look at the newcomer upside-down. “Hi, Jia!”

Chagrav looked surprised, but recovered quickly. “Zaatha, this is my mentor, Jia of Clan Vizsla. Jia, this is Zaatha Naar, a politician from Kiros.”

The Mandalorian inclined her head briefly, and I mimicked her. She made no move to either remove her helmet or take a seat.

“So,” Chagrav said conversationally, “you here to help me get _The Nomad_ out of the impound, or to just get us off this rock?”

“Neither.” Her voice sounded flat through the helmet’s filtering system. “We have someone we need to pay a visit to.”

His mouth pressed into a thin line. “Ah.”

“When do we go?” Zoya asked.

Jia Vizsla’s helmet angled down as she considered the girl. “You can’t come, Zoya. This is business for Chagrav and I alone.”

Zoya pursed her lips and went back to her decrypting.

“Zaatha –” Chagrav looked conflicted. He drummed his fingers on his helmet as his jaw worked. “I’m sorry to need to ask… but – normally, if I have to leave Zoya behind, she stays on the ship. But with it impounded, that’s obviously out of the question.” He cleared his throat. “Would you be willing to keep an eye on her, just while I’m gone?”

That took me aback. Babysitting was _not_ something I planned to be doing out in the galaxy. Before I could say anything, he continued. “I know it’s a lot to ask. But she can mostly take care of herself, and I can give you some credits in case she needs anything. I just want to be sure she’s got someone to turn to if anything comes up. Especially with recent events.” His eyes darted to the window, as though expecting a squad of stormtroopers to waltz past.

Without looking up from the datapad, Zoya added, “Just don’t expect me to do _everything_ you say.”

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. To have a near-stranger entrust me with his charge was rather alarming. Talking to government leaders? Easy. Watching a kid? I hadn’t had to do that since my brother was little. But this bounty hunter was trusting me. “Very well,” I finally sighed. “I’ll watch her. And I’ll do everything I can to keep her out of trouble.”

“Thank you.” After rummaging in a pocket, he passed me a handful of credits. “That should cover anything she needs while I’m gone.”

I raised a brow at the amount. “That’s a lot for just a short while.”

“I’m expecting her to find a tech shop,” he admitted in a lower voice. “If whatever she finds is more than this, I can pay you back.”

Zoya squinted up at the Mandalorian. “How long you gonna be?”

Jia Vizsla shrugged. “Shouldn’t be too long. A few days at most. Tomorrow at the earliest. You ready?” she asked as Chagrav stood.

He downed the last of his caf. “Let’s go.” His expression went grim right before it disappeared beneath his helmet. He patted Zoya’s head. “Stay safe, little one.”

“You, too.” She sounded more serious than I’d heard her yet.

Vizsla and Chagrav had nearly made it to the door when it opened and a Cerean ambled in, ducking a bit to avoid hitting his tall domed head. His traveling robes were worn, the color of his tunic faded. He did a once-over of the cantina, seemed to find nothing interesting, and looked back at the door, where a vast figure blocked the entrance.

Stooping low and sidling through the door, a massive Wookiee entered, and once he’d cleared the threshold, a Human-looking woman entered behind him, the cowl of her cloak pulled down to cover her face.

The Wookiee had stepped right in front of Vizsla, and the Mandalorian stopped, tilting her head back to study him. She came up to about his waist. The Wookiee rumbled something I didn’t catch, and laid a massive hairy paw on her shoulder.

Vizsla reacted startlingly fast. She seized his arm and twisted around, stepping closer to him and wrenching him forward. With a roar of surprise, the Wookiee was flipped over, landing in a heap on the ground.

“Don’t touch me,” Vizsla said mildly, almost drowned out by the laughter of the Wookie’s companions. She gestured to Chagrav, and the two disappeared out onto the street.

The Wookiee grumbled darkly as he staggered to his feet. The Cerean held onto the back of a chair, red in the cheeks from laughing, while the woman bared her teeth in a grin. Zoya laughed, setting the datapad on the table. The Wookiee glared around the cantina. The other three patrons ducked their heads, but Zoya hopped out of her chair before I could stop her and skipped right over.

“That’s Jia for you,” she said, grinning up at the Wookiee. “You don’t wanna mess with her.”

“I wasn’t looking for a fight. Not this time, anyway,” he replied in Shryiiwook. For the umpteenth time, I made a mental note to thank my father for making me learn so many languages as a teenager. The growling, guttural sounds were impossible for me to mimic, but at least I could catch most of the words, and infer the rest.

Zoya planted her hands on her hips and craned her head to look up at him. “Why do you have so much fur?”

I stepped away from the table and called warningly, “Zoya –”

But the Wookiee didn’t seem offended. “Why do you have a tail?”

“I asked first.”

“I asked second.”

Zoya blinked in surprise. “But I asked first!”

“And I asked second!”

“Oh no,” the Cerean groaned. He looked to their third companion. “Uvo found a friend.”

“So it would seem.” Now fully visible, I realized the woman wasn’t wearing a deep cowl. Her hood had a length of fabric that hung down and covered her eyes completely. A Miraluka. She smiled slyly. At least, that’s what I assumed it was; it was surprisingly difficult to tell without being able to see any eyes.

The Cerean apparently knew that smile. “What?”

“I’m just waiting,” she replied.

His eyes narrowed. “Waiting for what?”

“For you to notice.”

He looked warily around the cantina. “Notice what?”

Her smile widened. “Now Kir, that would be cheating, wouldn’t it?” She turned to face me. “She’s yours?”

“No,” I said quickly. “That is, I’m watching her for the Mandalorians that just left.”

The woman nodded, then turned back to the other two, who had started to bicker. “Uvo, leave the child be and find us a table.”

“You can sit with us,” Zoya offered, giving the Wookie one last stink-eye before gesturing towards me.

“That’s alright –” the Cerean, Kir, started to say.

“Thank you, we will,” the Miraluka woman interrupted.

The other two stared at her in surprise. The Wookiee muttered, “Really?”, while the Kir repeated, “We will?”

The Miraluka ignored them, following Zoya to the table. I sat down slowly as the woman pulled out a chair for herself. She seemed so…confident. No, not quite that. I couldn’t come up with exactly the word to describe the way she carried herself, but she struck me as someone who had been dealt a winning hand at sabacc and was just waiting to play it.

Kir and Uvo hovered behind the woman as she flagged down Jakk and ordered them each a small plate of breakfast and a pot of caf.

“You may as well sit down,” she said, gesturing to the two empty chairs. Zoya watched her intently, the datapad forgotten on the table.

Kir folded his arms. “I’d rather be on guard.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Make sure no one else comes up. Keep an eye out for those stormtroopers we saw.”

The woman was smirking again. “And how would you defend against them if they come?”

Uvo snorted. “Easily.” He raised his hand to one of the bandoliers – and froze. “Uh oh.”

Kir looked sharply at him. Then his hand flew to his own hip and patted his belt frantically. “Oh, _kriff –_ ”

From the folds of her robes, the smirking Miraluka withdrew two short swords and held them out for inspection. “I took these from you back at the hanger. And you didn’t notice.”

Uvo hunched his massive shoulders as Kir’s face flushed. Abashed, they quietly took the swords.

“These weapons are your responsibility,” the Miraluka said. “Take care not to lose them.”

“Yes, Master,” Uvo mumbled.

“Sorry, Master,” Kir added, clipping the blade to his belt.

 _Master…_ I looked between the three of them. The two males didn’t seem to be slaves, so that worry was short-lived. Maybe they were apprentices for some sort of trade. Though what trade involved swords, I couldn’t guess. But there was a reverence when they spoke to her – some mixture of fear and respect. A religious order, perhaps? The swords could be ceremonial, even as dented and rugged as they were.

“Now, I didn’t catch your names,” the woman went on as the other two sat on either side of her. Jakk brought over their food and another pot of caf.

I extended my arm across the table. “Zaatha Naar, of Kiros.” After an embarrassed moment when I realized the woman might not know my hand was hovering in the space between us, the Miraluka grasped it. The handshakes with the other two were quick.

“I’m Zoya. The short Mandalorian is Jia, and the other one is Chagrav. He’s a bounty hunter. Can you really see us?”

I shot her a warning look, but the woman only smiled. “I can.”

“Cuz we just did a job with another Miraluka, and he didn’t say too much, but he knew what was going on even though he was blindfolded. It was weird. And you can see too? Well, see without eyes?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes. I rely on other senses to move through life.”

Zoya put out her hand. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

Uvo snickered as he ate.

“Three.”

The girl put her hand down, impressed.

The woman gestured. “This is Uvo and Kir. Contruum is a resting place as we travel, and so far, things have been… interesting. What brings you here?”

“I’m helping Chagrav find a bounty,” Zoya said proudly. She deflated a bit and considered. “Well, we were before the ship got locked up. Now we’re just trying to get it back.”

“I’m attempting to establish trade relations between Contruum and Kiros.” I took a sip of caf. “I do apologize, but I didn’t catch _your_ name.”

The Miraluka smiled. “You may call me whatever you like.”

 _Are they not allowed to tell their names to anyone outside their species?_ Making a mental note to research Miraluka naming conventions, I noticed Zoya fiddling with something in a small pocket on her toolbelt. Her tail twitched.

Surprisingly hesitant, Zoya asked, “So… you said you use other senses to see. Do you use the Force?”

The newcomers went very still, suddenly very focused on her.

My father had told me stories growing up about a mystical Force. He said the Jedi had drawn their power from the Force, that it was the centerpoint of their religion. I’d never done too much reading about the Jedi myself – partially because there was so little information on them. The Empire had destroyed or corrupted almost all data about the ancient Order, it was hard to find any concrete facts. I knew the New Republic acknowledged the old Rebellion hero Luke Skywalker as a Jedi, and, if the rumors were true, had permitted him to create a new temple where he could teach others about the Force and the way of the Jedi. Skywalker’s new faction seemed more like religious group than galactic peacekeepers, and I couldn’t help but wonder how true some of the old stories were.

“And what do you know of the Force, little one?” the Miraluka asked softly.

“Well, just what they taught me growing up.” Zoya’s face screwed up, like she was trying to remember an answer on a test. “It’s an energy that everyone has, and some people can use it to do things. Like the Jedi. And like some of the people who raised me.”

“And who would that be?”

“The Order of the Singing Blade.”

The woman tapped her mug thoughtfully. “I’ve heard of them. Interesting. Well, to be frank, yes: the Force grants me vision, as it does with all Miraluka. I just happen to have an affinity for it.”

Zoya nodded. “I thought so. You feel different.” She held out her hand, holding two glowing gems. I didn’t know what type of stone they were, but they were very pretty to look at.

“Where’d you get those?” Kir demanded as he and Uvo leaned closer to look.

“From home. They feel important, but I’m not sure what they are.”

The woman held out her hand. “May I?”

Reluctantly, Zoya rolled the gems into her palm. She turned them over carefully before nodding. “These are kyber crystals. Very rare. Potentially very powerful.”

Uvo harrumphed and leaned back in his seat, the legs groaning under his weight. “Some people have all the luck.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” I interjected. “Are they a powersource?”

“Of a sort.” The Miraluka passed the crystals back and said no more about them. Her head tilted as though she were considering the little Ryn before her in a new light.

I watched them as they went back to eating, and I couldn’t help but feel a bit bewildered. They didn’t look like criminals, not really. But something about them was somewhat unsettling. Dangerous, but maybe not to us. Zoya didn’t act afraid – but then again, did anything scare this child?

And all this talk about the Force and Jedi… I was missing something. Everyone else around the table knew something I didn’t, had an unspoken understanding. I pushed away my first thought. _There’s no way these three are Jedi. Maybe they’re part of a Force faith._ When I’d tried researching the Jedi, I came across several other religions and cults around the galaxy that supposedly used or revered the Force – the Fangawl cult of Bardotta, the Cerean Ner Yan, the extinct Dathomirian witches, among several others. Maybe they were part of one of those.

I took another drink of caf and glanced at Zoya. She kept a hand on the datapad as she ate, but her gaze was fixed on the newcomers. _I just hope Chagrav gets back soon._ The last thing I needed was to let a bounty hunter’s charge get involved with potential criminals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enter player characters:  
> Kir, a Cerean  
> Uvo, a Wookie


	6. If Only All Babysitting Could Be as Easy as Taking the Kid to the Library

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoya has things to do in the city. She just doesn't bother to mention it before she goes.

The moment she’d downed the last of her Jawa juice, Zoya snatched up the stormtrooper’s datapad, hopped down from her chair, and made for the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” I called in alarm. Kir, Uvo, and the Miraluka broke off their quiet conversation and looked over.

She didn’t slow down as the door slid open. “I need some parts! I’ll be back!”

“Zoya!”

But she was already gone.

“ _Stang,_ ” I hissed, leaping to my feet. I tossed a few credits on the bar to cover our meals and hurried outside, skidding to a stop as a Human walked in front of me. I spun around, looking up and down the street for any sign of her, but the only pedestrians were full-grown humanoids.

“Shili’s soil,” I uttered, heart pounding as I spotted a squad of stormtroopers approaching the intersection a block away. How was I supposed to watch Zoya if she didn’t want to be watched? Chasing after kids had never been my strong suit – Vanee thought it was the best game to sneak away from me and hide when our parents put me in charge.

Taking a deep breath and stepping out of the way of a Mon Cal, I forced myself to think. She said she needed parts. _So where around here sells tech?_ My cheeks burned as I went back into the Tauntaun.

Jakk scooped up the credits as I walked over. “She’s fast, eh?” He grinned.

“Apparently,” I grumbled. “Where would I go to find tech components? For datapads and comms and the like.”

The innkeep considered for a moment. “Hi-end stuff, or cheap?”

I considered the credits Chagrav had left me. “Cheap.”

“Yer best bet’s probably Josh’s. He’s got used parts for everythin’ from comms to carburetors. Six blocks south, two east, few buildings from the droid repair shop.”

Thanking him, I turned to find the Miraluka directly behind me. I jumped, a chill going up my montrals as I registered her presence. I hadn’t heard her come up.

“I can help you look for her, if you’d like,” the woman said. Behind her, Kir and Uvo were speaking in low tones as they headed towards the door. They kept their hands on the hilts of their swords, glancing back at their master suspiciously until they made it to the street.

“I appreciate the offer,” I said hesitantly. “But I don’t want to take up your time.”

“Not to worry. I have no pressing matters at the moment.”

There didn’t seem to be a polite way to reasonably refuse. “That would be welcome. Thank you. And who knows, you may notice something I won’t,” I added, trying to be lighthearted.

She half-smiled, pressing some credits into Jakk’s hand before following me outside.

I spied Uvo and Kir making their way northward. They strolled down the sidewalk as pedestrians parted for them like water around a rock, several of them staring openly at the gigantic Wookiee in amazement. The two paid them no mind. Something seemed to catch Uvo’s eye on a side street and he jerked his head towards it. They disappeared around a building.  

The stormtroopers were still posted at the intersection. They watched Kir and Uvo until they were out of sight, but made no move to follow.

“Never thought there would be stormtroopers back on the streets,” the woman said as we began walking south. “But the galaxy always has surprises in store.”

I hesitated. Obviously, I wasn’t about to tell this stranger about my run-in with Cara’s group and the cartel, but it didn’t feel right to stay completely silent when I had information that could be helpful. “They may not be real stormtroopers.”

“Oh?”

“They’re using old Imperial armor, not the new First Order style. And they don’t seem very orderly. They seem to casual for a military.”

“Do you know why they’re here?”

“No. But they’ve set up checkpoints outside the cities, and no one seems to mind much. Hopefully they’ll be gone soon.”

She thought it over as we waited for speeder traffic to clear. “Perhaps.”

The silence stretched on for the remainder of our walk, but eventually it felt natural. The Miraluka clearly had her business, and I had mine. I’d learned years ago not to force a conversation when there was no need to. Better to wait it out and see what came up organically.

Eventually we passed a mechanic’s bay advertising droid repair, and I spotted a weathered-looking shop front a few doors down, a faded sign announcing we’d found Josh’s Junk Store. It looked more run-down than other tech shops I’d seen, and I wondered what kind of business it brought in. Probably locals, or visitors on a budget.

“There it is,” I said, pointing – and remembered yet again that she couldn’t see. I made a note to try being a little more conscientious of my word choice with her. “One more door down. I just hope Zoya’s actually here.”

“She is,” the woman said, so confidently that I immediately believed her – and then wondered how she could know for certain.

But sure enough, there was Zoya, roaming the shelves of wires and devices as a bemused-looking Human watched from behind the counter. Her arms were full of components and pieces of Shili-knows-what, and she chittered quietly to herself as she went, examining a piece before either putting it back or moving on to the next item.

The Human looked relieved to see us. “She’s with you?”

“She is,” I said, coming over.

“Told her I couldn’t sell her anything without a guardian present.” The Human – Josh, I assumed – leaned forward on his stool, resting an elbow on the counter. “She good to be getting all that?”

I glanced over at Zoya’s pickings, but I couldn’t make heads or tails of what she was holding. Tech had never been my strong suit. “She’s working on a little project of hers. Wasn’t sure exactly what she’d need.”

Josh grinned. “Playing at being a slicer? I remember that. Kids always think they’ll be the galaxy’s greatest slicer for some secret movement or other. Me, I used to pretend I’d be a swoop racer.” He laughed.

I forced a grin. “Yep. Kids, you know?”

Zoya hopped over to the counter and dumped the pieces on the countertop with a clatter. Her tail held one last part, which came forward and set it daintily on top of the pile. “How much?”

Josh’s eyebrow raised as he started tallying up the items, and I caught Zoya’s eye. “All of this?”

“Well, most of this is from the clearance section, and I could always use more wires and shield plating.” She shrugged.

Josh announced the total, which was well within Chagrav’s borrowed credit amount. I handed off the credits and the Miraluka helped Zoya slide the pieces into a bag.

Outside the shop, I turned to Zoya. “I’m still not sure it’s a good idea to fiddle with that datapad.”

“Don’t you want to know what it says?” she shot back.

“Not really. It could be anything. Or it could be nothing.”

“But if it turns out to be important, you could take it to the governor,” she pointed out.

The Miraluka tilted her head. “This sounds like a very interesting datapad.”

“It is,” Zoya said, her tail flicking side-to-side. “I stole it from a stormtrooper.”

I shushed her, frantically checking to make sure no one else was around. Fortunately, this road had far less foot traffic than the main thoroughfare, and the closest being was several buildings down on the other side of the street. “ _Please_ don’t talk about that out in the open. _Especially_ when there are stormtroopers here.”

Zoya rolled her eyes.

“Stole it from a stormtrooper,” the woman repeated. “Did you, now?”

“Long story,” I cut in sharply.

Zoya put her free hand on her hip. “We can trust her. And the other two.”

I took a deep breath and said in my most reasonable tone, “I’m glad you think so, Zoya. But I’d rather wait a while before we start telling strangers personal things, alright?”

The woman didn’t seem to take offence. “I admire your instincts, little one. But Zaatha has a point. There is a time and a place for everything.”

Zoya’s face scrunched up. “You sound like Phil.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Let’s get back to the Tauntaun,” I said, looking up and down the road. “You can work on the datapad there.

The Ryn shook her head. “I wanna go to the library.”

“What library?” I asked in confusion.

She pointed. “It’s a few streets over. Chagrav said he’d take me there, but we haven’t gotten a chance yet.”

At least this was a reasonable request. “I suppose that would work.”

‘A few streets over’ ended up being halfway across the city, and after getting distracted by clothing shops and gadget stalls and food vendors, by the time we finally reached the library the sun was high in the sky. To my surprise, the Miraluka stayed with us, keeping Zoya in active conversation about tech repair. Apparently, Zoya had several partial droids back on Chagrav’s ship that she was tinkering with, and the woman promised that she’d love to take a look at them once the ship was released from the impound.

No matter the world or culture, libraries always made me feel at ease. This one was no exception. The moment we stepped inside, the noise of street traffic fell away to the muffled noise of quiet conversation and electronic whirring. The building stood several stories tall, its levels ringing a circular open space that ended in a stained-glass ceiling. Datacrons and faintly glowing holobooks beckoned from their shelves on the upper levels, while the first two levels lay packed with terminals and access ports.

“You seem less anxious here,” the Miraluka said softly as we walked towards a collection of tables and chairs.

I nodded. “My father is a history professor at the college on Kiros, and my mother is a politician. I spent a lot of time at the college library and the government archives when I was younger. It’s comfortable.”

At least, it _was_ comfortable until Zoya upended her bag and all the little metal pieces crashed against an open table. I winced as the noise reverberated through the first few levels. Unsurprisingly, the loud sound conjured a librarian, a prim Human woman with a scowl and an immediate desire to throw us out. Not that I could blame her, what with the grimy pieces smearing oil residue all over the table and the scraping of metal as Zoya began picking through them.

Before the librarian could work herself into a full tirade and before I could say anything to placate her, the Miraluka stepped forward. “Come now,” she said soothingly. “It was just a misunderstanding.”

The librarian squinted at her. “A misunderstanding?” she repeated.

“That’s right.” She made a soothing gesture with her hands. “You don’t need to kick us out. The little one didn’t realize she was making a mess. We’ll move downstairs to one of the workrooms.”

The librarian sniffed. “You’ll move to one of the workroom downstairs. I won’t have this mess up here in the atrium section.”

“Of course,” the woman said smoothly. “Thank you for understanding. We’ll relocate there now.”

“You’ll relocate there _now_ ,” the librarian emphasized.

I blinked. There was – there was something off about that. The librarian almost seemed to just be echoing what the Miraluka said, even though she had seemed unrelenting a moment before…

As the librarian shuffled off, it hit me. In old stories about the Jedi, they had the ability to sway people’s decisions. Jedi mind tricks, if I remembered correctly. I eyed the woman uneasily.

Zoya looked anything but uneasy. “Can you teach me how to do that?” she asked excitedly.

“We’ll see,” the woman said in amusement. “In the meantime, let’s move downstairs so you can work on… whatever it is you’re doing.”

I felt obligated to clean the grease off the table, so the other two moved Zoya’s project downstairs as I went to the front desk for some cleaning agents. It wasn’t difficult to remove, and when I returned the rag and bottle, the librarian was peering at a terminal. She gave me a nod in greeting – but she didn’t seem to recognize that we had just interacted.

After checking that Zoya was settled in – she was already pulling gadgets out of her toolbelt and prying and twisting bits together – the Miraluka and I left her to it. The woman ascended to one of the upper levels, while I picked a secluded spot and sunk into a comfortable chair. The seat didn’t _quite_ meet Togruta standards of comfort, but it was close. Pulling my own datapad from my satchel, I pulled up the local Holonet and browsed through the headlines.

The only notable article I came across was a bulletin from Governor Aldeer Tieb acknowledging the presence of stormtroopers on the planet. It was impressively vague in explaining why they were on-world, citing ‘resupply of goods and regaining bearings’ as their temporary prerogative. No mention of the ship in orbit, but it did inform the public that the stormtroopers had established checkpoints outside major cities to ‘limit unintended civilian involvement, or to otherwise discourage malicious intervention by potentially hostile parties.’ The last portion of the bulletin was filled with reassuring statements that the government was aiding the stormtroopers as they conducted their business, and that civilian cooperation would enable a speedy return to normal operations on the planet.

I read through the piece twice, feeling a sinking feeling in my gut as I noted just how _political_ it sounded. It used a lot of words to say nothing at all; all it boiled down to was “ _Please don’t do anything stupid while they’re here, we can’t do anything to make them leave right now.”_ But of course, only cynical civilians or people in-the-know would gather that, if anyone read the bulletin at all.

And not once in the whole article did Tieb say that the stormtroopers belonged to the First Order.

I had almost disconnected from the Holonet when something my colleague, Makas Nysan, had said came back to me. _“Sometimes you have to look at unofficial channels to get the information you need. Be sure you have a good encryption on any computer you use.”_ I’d been indignant when he’d first told me that, during my first week in the General Council. I couldn’t imagine not being able to find facts in official publications. But my mother had confirmed it when I’d discussed it with her the next evening. “ _The people aren’t stupid. They pick up on things that we might not, and they know when they’re being mollified. Know how things are affecting them. If you go to the right sources, you’ll find the answers you need.”_

Keeping that in mind, I began to browse other Holonet sites, and it quickly became apparent that the calming words of the governor were not as effective as he hoped. Diving into the forums and discussions and conspiracy sites, I sifted through rumors of kidnappings and disappearances, of skirmishes with stormtroopers. There were whispers that this was the beginning of an occupation, that transmissions were being monitored and recorded, and that a Star Destroyer was in orbit. I grimaced. _So Tieb hadn’t been able to keep that from public knowledge_. There were debates between those toting pro-Imperial, pro-First Order propaganda, and those who vehemently supported the organization of the New Republic, despite the conflict between the Centrist and Populist parties.

Three articles in particular caught my eye, all from independent journalists who claimed that something was happening in Dock 47 at Alalys’s most northward hanger port. None of the journalists had been able to make it inside the dock, due to a heavy presence of armed troopers, but they had observed multiple shipments being transported in and out. One thought that the cargo was artillery pieces, that weapons were being assembled that would be used against the people of Contruum. Another was adamant that it was parts for speeders and other ships, while the third insisted that they were actually transporting people offworld.

I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when I finally pulled myself away from the forums, rubbing my eyes and stretching. There was so much speculation, and so little proof of anything. _Dock forty-seven might be worth checking out, though_ , I thought.

I caught myself. _If_ anything was happening at Dock 47, I was going to stay _far_ away from it. I’d already risked too much by doing that job for Cara. If the stormtroopers were assembling weapons or ships to move against the militias, then digging deeper into what was going on was _not_ in my best interest if I wanted a long life.

Still… I was curious. It would be nice to know what was going on. And if there was anything I could do to help…

I sighed and stood, making my way back to Zoya’s workroom. The Ryn had a jumbled device tethered to the riot trooper’s datapad, her small hands pinching cords and adjusting angles as she studied the tech.

“Are you set?” I asked, cracking my back and rolling my shoulders.

Zoya’s lips pursed. “I think so. It’s gonna take some time to sync up, and I’m hungry. We can head back.”

“Excellent.” Food _did_ sound good. I helped her bag the odds and ends she hadn’t used in her makeshift device, then led her up to the main level. Before we could make it outside, though, Zoya tugged on my sleeve to stop me.

“Wait, wait. She’s on her way.”

“Who?” I asked.

“The Miraluka. The master.”

I looked around. “I don’t see her.”

“She’s coming,” Zoya said with the same certainty that the Miraluka had displayed earlier. It was uncanny.

I stifled a yawn. “Fine. We’ll wait few minutes.”

Sure enough, the woman appeared after a minute, giving the librarian from earlier a pleasant wave before approaching us.

“Shall we?”

Zoya wanted to eat at a Corellian grill we passed along the way, and the cooking meat _did_ smell good, so we stopped there for dinner. By the time we finally made it back to the Tame Tauntaun, dusk was beginning to darken the sky.

“Uvo commed me and said he reserved us two rooms here,” the Miraluka said as we went in. “The three of us will be in the area for a few more days, if you’d like to be in touch.”

“Sure!” Zoya said, grinning. “There’s some more stuff I want to talk to you about.”

“Just – let me know if you’re going to be with her, okay?” I asked. “Just until Chagrav gets back.”

“ _Fine_ ,” she sighed.

 _Hopefully he’s back soon,_ I thought. _If she just wants to window shop and go to the library every day, I can handle that._ But she struck me as the antsy type, not happy unless she was constantly moving. And I had no clue if the bounty hunter would approve of her spending time with strangers. _Well, new strangers he hasn’t met yet._

Kir was waiting for us at the top of the stairs. He lounged against the doorframe of what I assumed was his rented room, his arms crossed. His sword still hung at his side.

The woman tilted her head with a sigh. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s been an interesting turn of events. We figured it was best to wait for you.” Kir pushed himself off the doorframe and pressed the control.

The door slid open. The Miraluka entered, and when Kir didn’t move to stop her, so did Zoya. I peered inside. Uvo sat on one of the two beds, its frame groaning under his weight, as he studied something just out of my view. I glanced at Kir, and at his shrug, I stepped inside –

\- and froze, seizing Zoya’s arm and pulling her back.

In the room stood two stormtroopers.


	7. We Meet the Neighbors.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoya is apparently actually good at tech, not so much at making friends her own age. Also, there are strangers in Uvo and Kir's room.

Immediately, I took a step back, ready to pull Zoya from the room –

The Miraluka’s hand landed vice-like on my arm. I turned sharply to snarl at her to let me go, then noticed her fingers were raised in a ‘wait-a-moment’ gesture. She and her apprentices hadn’t moved. Neither had the stormtroopers. Reluctantly, I relaxed, and the woman released her grip. Likewise, I let go of Zoya’s arm. She side-stepped me to get a better view.

Looking the troopers over more carefully, I realized neither of them were armed. There was no sign of the standard-issue blaster rifles anywhere in the room. They were rather short for full-grown Humans, and the scraped and scorched plastoid armor hung awkwardly off them; their helmeted heads bobbed slightly as they peered back at us.

“What are they doing here?” the Miraluka finally asked.

“You know, it’s a funny story,” Uvo growled conversationally from his perch on the bed. “This morning, Kir was telling me, ‘ _You know, I’ve heard there are some interesting people down some of the side alleys on this planet, and they’re pretty friendly for a couple credits, so why don’t we –‘_ ”

“I didn’t say that –!” Kir broke off and glared at Uvo while the Wookiee shook with suppressed laughter.

The woman made a dismissive gesture, the corners of her mouth twitching. Kir continued, “We ran into them on a deserted side street around midday. They were putting on the stormtrooper armor, and it was pretty obvious it wasn’t theirs.”

“Well, of course not,” one of the stormtroopers cut in. His voice was male, made flat by the vocal modulator. “If it were ours, it would fit a lot better.”

The second trooper spoke up immediately, voice higher and feminine. “It’s ridiculous that they just seem to be one-size-fits-all. There _are_ other body types in the galaxy.”

“Very true,” Uvo said. “So, they were putting on the armor, and I tackled them.”

I blinked. “You – tackled them? Just… just because?”

“Thought we’d be crushed to death,” the man said.

“Didn’t even see him coming,” the woman added. “It was well done.”

“Very well done,” the man agreed.

Zoya rolled her eyes. She hopped up on the other bed and became absorbed by the datapad once again, already bored with the conversation.

The way the two fake troopers talked was odd. One started speaking just as the other barely finished their sentence, the back and forth between them feeling like a well-rehearsed comedy sketch.

They removed their too-large helmets in perfect unison. Both Human, thin of face, and dark of hair. They grinned.

“I’m Isaac.”

“I’m Miria.”

“Pleasure to meet you all.”

The master folded her arms. “And you decided to bring them here because –?”

Uvo shrugged. “They amused me. And they came along without much trouble.”

Miria nodded. “We didn’t want to get squished again.”

“And they handled the real troopers very well,” Isaac added.

The Miraluka’s lips turned downward. “Real troopers?”

“We may have gotten into a slight scuffle with a squad of bucketheads,” Kir admitted.

“I trust they won’t be a problem?”

The Wookiee grinned broadly. “Not anymore.”

My stomach flipped, but I kept my face blank. If Uvo and Kir had killed troopers… _then again, he hadn’t actually said they’d killed them…_ But no, I knew it in my gut. I couldn’t tell if I was horrified or impressed, and that disgusted me.

Isaac was speaking. “Those darn stormtroopers, always coming in and making a mess of things.”

“Just makes things more interesting for us,” Miria quipped back.

“True, we do have more fun when they’re around.”

“The Imps don’t seem to enjoy it as much as we do, though.”

“The Empire doesn’t know how to have fun.”

“You mean First Order,” I corrected.

Isaac blinked rapidly before turning to Miria. “Isn’t it just the Empire?”

“I thought so.”

“Then why call it something different?”

“Beats me.”

I let out a puff of air. “The Empire was overthrown more than thirty years ago. The New Republic replaced it as the galactic government. The First Order… well, I haven’t been able to find anything that says _exactly_ what they are, but they seem to be a mix of some remaining Imperials and people who want the Empire back. “

Miria squinted. “Doesn’t that just make it the Empire?”

I shook my head, then realized it was pointless. “N – basically. Sure, basically.”

An electronic ping made me jump.

“Ha!” Zoya cried in glee. She flipped the datapad towards us, grinning. Aurebesh scrolled across the blue screen. “I’m in!”

I stared. “You – you sliced it?”

“Well, yeah. Once I matched the preliminary encryption circuit, it was easy enough to bypass it.” She frowned suddenly. “Wait - did you think I couldn’t?”

“Well…”

“Rude.” She waved it again. “You wanna see?”

_No. Yes._ Unsure if I was reluctant or not, I crossed over to her. _I am so out of my element, I don’t even know what to think_.

The trooper’s datapad teemed with information. Password-protected communiques that Zoya cracked open without hesitation, manifests, timetables, the works.

“Here, look,” Zoya said, pointing at a certain message. “Instructions from command, for the duration of blah blah blah… ‘this ship’s available company is ordered to assist our new allies in whatever way they deem appropriate.’”

“And what ship would that be?” Kir wondered.

“And who’s allied to who?” Uvo put in.

The Miraluka turned to us. The embroidered fabric covering the top half of her face made reading her expression very difficult, but her voice was intrigued as she asked, “Would you care to fill us in?”

I hesitated. Zoya didn’t.

“The stormtroopers have a Star Destroyer in orbit, and they’re working with a spice cartel, and probably other criminals too,” she explained cheerily. “Actually, the stormtroopers probably aren’t _real_ troopers, y’know? They’re probably criminals too, we just don’t know who they’re with.”

I grimaced and tried to tell myself that at least I’d _technically_ kept my promise to the governor about not telling anyone about the ship.

Kir whistled. “A Star Destroyer, huh?” He gave his mentor a side-long look. “Always wanted to see one of those.”

“I’m sure.” Her fingers tapped thoughtfully on the bedside table. “Now who could have gotten their hands on an operational capital ship?”

She didn’t seem to be looking for an actual answer, so I didn’t respond. Instead, I continued watching the screen as Zoya flicked through page after page of intel. There was so much here, it was difficult to parse out what was relevant or important. I caught isolated words as they zoomed past. _Laborers… 89 th … orders… rendezvous… 47… Fenn… equipment… _

“Wait,” I said suddenly, jabbing a finger at the screen. “Go back a few articles.”

Zoya obliged, and I read quickly. “Dock forty-seven,” I muttered.

The child wrinkled her nose. “What’s that?”

“Some investigative journalists think there’s something going on there. Apparently, they’re not wrong.”

The script was an itinerary of shuttles to and from the dock. Like clockwork, cargo was being loaded onto waiting shuttles, which were then being piloted directly to the Destroyer waiting on the far side of the moon. Additional notes at the end of the document listed orders from a captain that thirty troopers would be stationed at the dock at all times to deter any interference.

“But what’re they transporting?” Zoya wondered aloud after she had relayed the info to the others.

“Seeing as though they’re dealing with a spice cartel, my guess would be spice,” Kir said dryly, “but it could be any number of things.”

Miria chimed in, “Cartels are so worried about money, it’s so strange.”

“We’ve never needed money for anything.” Isaac shook his head. “And all they want is more, more, more.

“There’s things far more valuable than money.”

“True, but cartels and Empires just don’t get it.”

Zoya seemed to finally realize the fake troopers had taken off their helmets. She peered at the two Humans, her brow furrowing. “You look familiar. Do I know you?”

Isaac shrugged. “We just have two of those faces.”

“We get that a lot,” Miria agreed.

Zoya didn’t look convinced, but was distracted as a negative-sounding beep came from the datapad. An alert had popped up on the screen, stating that the data in this file was heavily restricted.

“ _Ooooooo_ , goody.” The Ryn’s fingers moved deftly as she rewired something on her makeshift device and entered in a long stream of coding.

The screen went dark.

“ _Shebs_!” Zoya pouted.

“Language,” I said automatically.

She squinted up at me. “You speak Mando’a?”

“Well… no. But it’s obvious you just cursed.”

She tapped in a few more commands before tossing it to the floor in frustration. “It wiped. Everything’s gone.”

A knot formed in my stomach. “Were you able to back anything up?”

Zoya scowled. “No. I didn’t think I’d need to.”

_There goes any evidence I had for Tieb._ I let out a puff of air. _That’s probably for the better._

Movement caught my eye; Kir’s head had snapped towards the door, his hand dropping to the hilt of his weapon.

“What is it?” Uvo growled, on his feet in a flash.

“Someone was outside,” Kir breathed. In a single movement, he activated the door control and stepped out into the hall.

Zoya darted past me before I could grab her, hopping past Kir and looking around. She cocked her head to the side and waved at someone out of sight. _Chagrav?_ I wondered. Kir had relaxed, so I poked my head around the corner.

A boy no bigger than Zoya stood at the end of the hall, in front of another door. Two large, furry ears extended from an angular face, his brow furrowed as he stared back at us. A moment later, the boy disappeared through the door.

I couldn’t help it; my lip curled. Zoya saw.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Do you know that boy?” I asked, trying to clear my expression.

“No, but he looks like he’s my age. I thought maybe he’d want to talk. But what’s wrong? You don’t like him.”

I stepped back inside the room, rubbing my temples. “It’s not that I don’t like him. It’s just… my people have had bad experiences with his people. The Zygerrians,” I added in response to her confused look.

“What happened?”

I stifled a humorless laugh. _How do I explain the pain and distrust of that history to a child?_ Then I felt ashamed. After all, that boy down the hall did not deserve my distrust just because of his species.

Even though she had no eyes, I felt the Miraluka staring at me. I did my best to ignore her. “The Zygerrian Empire,” I said slowly, “is second only to the Hutts in the slave trade. They enslaved my people during the Clone Wars… my grandparents and great-grandparents among them. They were freed shortly after, but there has been bad blood ever since.”

Zoya looked thoughtful.

_Bad blood_ … that was putting it lightly. The feline race had come to Kiros on the pretext of relocating my people to a safer world while the Separatists occupied the planet, and then kidnapped the entire population. Fifty thousand pacifist colonists had been put to work in mines or sold to the highest bidders. According to the census taken after the Jedi intervened, over fifteen thousand Togruta never returned home – they were the ones unlucky enough to be sold off or killed before they could be rescued. My great-grandmother was one of them.

The ordeal burned itself into Kirosian Togruta. There was unease when the Empire began mining the planet, and absolute horror when they started using laborers instead of droids. And at the time, it had been a poorly-kept secret that Imperial officials turned a blind eye to Zygerrian slavers raiding Togrutan ships and outlying villages. Neither Shilian or Kirosian diplomats had ever reached out to Zygerria to negotiate a peace – the risk of their treachery was too high, and our anger was too great.

Shaking the bad feelings off, I turned to Uvo, who was inspecting the datapad. He tossed it to me and I turned it over, examining the contraption the little Ryn had tethered to it. “Zoya, are you sure this is completely dead? Is there any way to –”

“Oh, she’s gone,” Kir interrupted.

I spun around, dropping the datapad. Sure enough, the Cerean stood alone in the doorway. “Gone where?”

He nodded down the hall, where there was a distant knock, a sliding hiss, and a chipper voice saying, “Hi! I’m Zoya. Are you a slaver?”

Cursing under my breath, I bolted for the door as Uvo roared a laugh.

The boy was standing in the doorway, glaring at a beaming Zoya. “No,” he replied shortly.

“Oh, okay, I was just wondering. What’s your name?

He glanced up at me. “Jonah.”

“You want to hang out?”

He stared at her. He pressed a control. The door slid shut between them.

“Hey!” Zoya called, indignant.

Heavy footsteps sounded behind me. “Did he shut you out?” Uvo growled.

The girl nodded vigorously. Without another word, the Wookiee dug his claws into the corner of the door. With an awful shriek of metal, he wedged his paw between the door and jamb. His face contorted with effort and he grunted as he wrenched the door from its track.

“What are you doing?” I cried as he tossed the jagged door against the wall.

The Zygerrian boy on the other side leapt back in alarm, staring up at the looming Wookiee with wide eyes.

“That was very rude,” Uvo intoned.

I lurched forward. “Uvo –!”

“ _Jonah! What’s going on_?” another voice yelled from within the room.

A jolt of surprise coursed through me as a Togruta raced from the ’fresher, blaster in hand. He was taller than me, montrals angled backward, lekku short, and expression angry. He hurriedly put himself between Uvo and the boy, blaster aimed right at the Wookiee’s face.

“There’s no need for that.” Uvo’s growl was far too pleasant, causing a knot of fear to form in my gut.

The Togruta took in the three of us in the doorway, gesturing behind him for the boy to back up. Jonah did so, his small arms brought up as though ready to fight.

“What do you want?” the Togruta demanded, blaster steady.

“Well,” Uvo mused, “Zoya here was just striking up some friendly conversation with young Jonah there, and he closed the door in her face. As that’s rather rude, I decided I would give Zoya another chance to talk to him.”

The Togruta glared. “And you think ripping the door out is _reasonable_?”

Uvo’s smile was bland. “It was _effective_.”

I cut in before Uvo could say more. “I am so sorry about this. I’m sure Uvo didn’t mean any harm –”

“Of course I didn’t.”

“– but I’m sorry for the fright.” I grimaced as I glanced at the broken door. “And I’ll be more than glad to pay for any damages the innkeeper charges.”

He considered me for a long moment before lowering his blaster. “I appreciate the offer, but _you’re_ not the one who broke it off.”

“What’s your name?” Zoya chimed in, apparently ignoring the entirety of the situation.

The Togruta’s brow raised. “Lem.”

“I’m Zoya. And this is Uvo and Zaatha.” Her tail twitched as she leaned to the side. “So…do you want to hang out?”

Jonah had crept up to stand beside Lem. His narrow face twisted into a scowl, his large ears angling backwards. “Not particularly.”

“Oh. Well, let me know if you change your mind. I’ll be on-planet for a little while more.”

“We won’t be,” Jonah replied shortly.

The Togruta placed a hand on Jonah’s shoulder. “We’d better go see Jakk about other accommodations. I’m not about to stay in a room without a door.”

“Easily fixed,” Uvo said cheerfully. He hefted the broken door up and wedged it into the threshold, the mechanism trying and failing to retract it fully into the wall with a whirring _clunk, clunk, clunk._

Lem didn’t look amused. “Not about to stay in a room without a _locking_ door.”

“Hmm. That, I can’t help you with.”

Lem’s thin patience seemed to be waning, so I jerked my head pointedly back to our rooms. “We’ll leave you to your evening, with our apologies. Uvo, after you. Zoya, come _on_.”

But Zoya hadn’t flinched when Uvo ripped the door out, and she didn’t move now. She tilted her head to the side, looking between Lem and Jonah. “Why are you with him?” she asked Lem.

Lem answered simply, “I am his guardian.”

“But his people are slavers. Didn’t they enslave your people?”

I felt my cheeks burn as Lem’s gaze flickered to me before answering. “Individuals are not responsible for the actions of others of their kind.”

Zoya pursed her lips, but nodded.

Bidding us a brief good night, Lem led Jonah down the hall and out of sight.

“What were you _thinking_?” I hissed at Uvo as we walked back. “You’re lucky he didn’t just shoot you.”

“That would have been interesting.” He seemed to consider it, then shrugged. “As for what I was thinking, it’s just like I told Lem: I wanted to give Zoya another chance to talk to the kid. If there’s one thing to know about me, Zaatha, it’s this: I may fib for a joke, but when it comes to something serious, I never lie.”

I eyed him skeptically, but didn’t push it; everyone knows it’s not wise to upset a Wookiee.

When we got to the trio’s room, Uvo stopped dead in the doorway. He filled the entire space, so it wasn’t until he ducked in that I saw what had surprised him.

Isaac and Miria were gone.

“Where’d they go?” Uvo demanded of Kir, spreading his hairy arms in exasperation.

“They left,” the Miraluka answered simply.

“Left?”

“We had a pleasant conversation – they’re a very interesting pair – and I said they could go.”

Uvo grumbled, but apparently didn’t dare argue with her decision.

It didn’t take much prodding to get Zoya to turn in for the night; she was yawning as she absently fiddled with the datapad, apparently hoping she could recover the information somehow. Part of me was disappointed that I wouldn’t have evidence to take to Governor Tieb, but overall, I felt relieved.

My thoughts drifted to Lem and Jonah as I checked my messages before bed. I couldn’t help but be curious as to what circumstances had led Lem to look after the Zygerrian boy, and what might have brought them to Contruum. In the room next to me, I heard Zoya shuffling around. _Of course, circumstances can change suddenly._ After associating myself with Uvo, though, I doubted Lem would be willing to speak with me. I sighed. _It would be nice to talk to another Togruta in my mother tongue. It’s been a while._

Maybe it was my worry about looking after Zoya, or my disquiet with the Miraluka and her apprentices, or my embarrassment over the fiasco with Lem and Jonah, or the quiet fear of the stormtroopers I spotted patrolling the streets outside. Whatever it was, my sleep was full of uneasy dreams…

*

I stood in the center of a twisted city, silhouettes beside me – was that Chagrav? Uvo? Their faces shifted and blurred out of focus; it was impossible to tell. A storm rumbled around us, dousing the city in darkness. Nothing moved. No one breathed. Mist swarmed the city, wisps of light and dark twisting around each other in the distance. I looked up; burning starships belched smoke and flames, tumbling from the sky.

Something laughed – no, growled – something mechanical grated an approximation of a laugh, sending chills down my spine and montrals. Along the road, the mist broke, and from it stalked a figure swathed in shadow. I tried to focus on it, but it shimmered, maybe not really there. It held a red flame in hand – no. Not a red flame. A blade. A blade glowing red as blaster fire. In a horrible voice that rang in my head, it whispered, “Let’s have us a chat.” It extended a hand and darkness converged on us –

*

I woke with a jolt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is kind of choppy. I didn't have nearly as many notes for this one as most of the others, so I had to come up with some transitions, which I got stuck on. But it's done now, so I can move on with the story! Hooray!


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